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a:/. 







THE 


OHIEIT D’OR 


THE GOLDEN DOG 



NEW YORK : 

R. WORTHINGTON, 750 BROADWAY. 


1878. 






New Fork: J. J. Iiittle & Co., Printers, 
10 to 20 Astor Place. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER. 


PAGE. 

1. 

Men of the Old Regime 


. . I 

11. 

The Walls of Quebec 


. . 10 

III. 

A Chatelaine of New France 


14 

IV. 

Confidences 


. . 24 

V. 

The Itinerant Notary. 


34 

VI. 

Beaumanoir 

• 

. . 46 

VII. 

The Intendant Bigot . 

• 

53 

VIII. 

Caroline de St. Castin 

• 

. . 67 

IX. 

Pierre Philibert . 


. . 80 

X. 

Amelie de Repentigny. 


86 

XL 

The Soldier’s Welcome 

• 

. . 92 

XII. 

The Castle of St. Louis 

• 

• • 105 

XIII. 

The Chien d’or . 

• 

. . 116 

XIV. 

The Council of War . 


. . 129 

XV. 

The Charming Josephine . 


. . 141 

XVI. 

Angelique des Meloises 


• 153 

XVII. 

Splendide Mendax 


. . 167 

XVIII. 

The Merovingian Princess . 


. . 182 

XIX. 

Put Money in thy Purse 


. . 190 

XX. 

Cross Questioning 


. . 201 

XXL 

Belmont .... 


. . 208 

XXII. 

Sic itur ad astra . 


. . 220 

XXIIL 

So glozed the Tempter 


• 235 

XXIV. 

Seals of Love, but Sealed in Vain 

. 245 

XXV. 

The hurried Question of Despair 

• 253 

XXVI. 

“Twixt the last Violet and the earliest Rose” 262 

XXVII. 

The Canadian Boat Song . 


. 273 

XXVIII. 

Cheerful Yesterdays and Confident To-mor- 


rows .... 

, 

288 

XXIX. 

A day at the Manor House 

, 

296 

XXX. 

Felices ter et amplius 

, 

. 310 

XXXI. 

“No speech of silk will serve 

your turn ” . 318 

xxxn. 

The Ball at the Intendant’s Palace 

332 

XXXIII. 

“ On with the Dance” 


. ' . 340 

XXXIV. 

Calling a Ravenous bird from the East . 

XXXV. 

La Corriveau 


• 359 

XXXVI. 

Weird Sisters 


376 

XXXVII. 

“ Flaskets of Drugs, full to their wicked lips.” 388 


vi 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER. 


PAGE. 


XXXVIII. The broad black Gateway of a Lie . . 395 

XXXIX. Olympic Chariots and much learned Dust . 408 

XL. The Coutume de Paris ..... 430 

XLI. A wild night inn doors and out . . . 443 

XLII. Mere MaJheur .... . . 452 

XLI 1 1 . Outvenoms all the Worms of Nile . . 468 

XLIV. Quoth the raven : “Nevermore!’’ . . 475 

XLV. A deed without a Name .... 484 

XLVI. “ Let’s talk of graves and worms and epitaphs ” 496 
XLVII. Silk gloves over bloody hands . . . 517 

XLVIII. The Intendant’s Dilemma . . . 541 

XLIX. “ I will feet fat the ancient grudge I bear him ”551 
L. The Bourgeois Philibert . . . . 561 

LI. A drawn game 573 

LII. “ In gold clasps locks in the golden story ” 581 

LI 1 1 . The market-place on St. Martin’s Day . 592 

LIV. “ Blessed they who die doing thy will ” . 604 

LV. Evil News rides post 622 

LVI. The Ursulines 633 

LVII. The lamp of Repentigny .... 643 

LVI 1 1 . “ Lovely in Death the beauteous Ruin lay ” 658 

LIX. “ The Mills of God grind slowly” . . , 667 


THE CHIEN D’OR. 


CHAPTER I. 

MEN OF THE OLD REGIME. 

^ ^ ^ C EE N aples and then die ! ’ That was a proud saying, 
Count, which we used to hear as we cruised under 
lateen sails about the glorious bay, that reflects from its 
waters the fires of Vesuvius. We believed the boast then, 
Count. But I say now, ‘ See Quebec and live for ever 1 ’ 
Eternity would be too short to weary me of this lovely 
scene — this bright Canadian morning is worthy of Eden, 
and the glorious landscape worthy of such a sun rising.” 

Thus exclaimed a tall, fair, Swedish gentleman, his 
blue eyes sparkling, and every feature glowing with enthu- 
siasm, Herr Peter Kahn, to His Excellency Count de la 
Galissoniere, Governor of New France, as they stood 
together on a bastion of the ramparts of Quebec, in the 
year of grace 1748. 

A group of French and Canadian officers in the military 
uniforms of Louis XV., stood leaning on their swords, 
as they conversed gaily together on the broad gravelled 
walk, at the foot of the rampart. They formed the suite 
in attendance upon the Governor, who was out by sunrise 
this morning to inspect the work done during the night by 
the citizens of Quebec, and the habitans of the surround- 
ing country, who had been hastily summoned to labor 
upon the defences of the city. 

A few ecclesiastics, in black cassocks, dignitaries of 
the Church, mingled cheerfully in the conversation of the 
officers. They had accompanied the Governor, both to 

I 


2 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


show their respect and to encourage by their presence 
and exhortations, the zeal of the colonists in the work of 
fortifying the capital. 

War was then raging between old England and old 
France, and between New England and New France. 
The vast region of North America, stretching far into the 
interior and south-west from Canada to Louisiana, had 
for three years past been the scene of fierce hostilities 
between the rival nations, while the savage Indian tribes 
ranged on the one side and on the other, steeped their 
mocassins in the blood of French and English colonists, 
who, in their turn, became as fierce and carried on the 
war as relentlessly as the savages themselves. 

Louisbourg, the bulwark of New France, projecting 
its mailed arm boldly into the Atlantic, had been cut off 
by the English, who now overran Acadia, and began to 
threaten Quebec with invasion by sea and land. Busy 
rumors of approaching danger were rife in the colony, 
and the gallant Governor issued orders which were enthusi- 
astically obeyed, for the people to proceed to the walls 
and place the city in a state of defence ; to bid defiance to 
the enemy. 

Rolland Michel Barrin, Count de la Galissoniere, was 
remarkable no less for his philosophical attainments, that 
ranked him high among the savans of the French Acad- 
emy, than for his political abilities and foresight as a 
statesman. He felt strongly the vital interests involved 
in the present war, and saw clearly what was the sole 
policy necessary for France to adopt in order to preserve 
her magnificent dominion in North America. His coun- 
sels were neither liked nor followed by the Court of 
Versailles, then sinking fast into the slough of corruption, 
that marked the closing years of the reign of Louis XV. 

Among the people who admired deeds more than 
words, the Count was honored as a brave and skilful 
admiral, who had borne the flag of France triumphantly 
over the seas, and in the face of her most powerful 
enemies — the English and Dutch. His memorable repulse 
of Admiral Byng, eight years after the events here record- 
ed, which led to the death of that brave and unfortunate 
officer, who was shot by sentence of Court martial to 
atone for that repulse, was a glory to France, but to the 
Count brought after it a manly sorrow, for the fate of his 


M£jV of the old regime. 


3 


opponent, whose death he regarded as a cruel and unjust 
act, unworthy of the English nation, usually as generous 
and merciful as it is brave and considerate. 

The Governor was already well advanced in years. 
He had entered upon the winter of life that sprinkles the 
head with snow that never melts, but he was still hale, 
ruddy and active. Nature had, indeed, moulded him in an 
unpropitious hour for personal comeliness, but in com- 
pensation had seated a great heart and a graceful mind in 
a body low of stature, and marked by a slight deformity. 
His piercing eyes, luminous with intelligence and full of 
sympathy for every thing noble and elevated, over-powered 
with their fascination the blemishes that a too curious 
scrutiny might discover upon his figure ; while his mobile 
handsome lips poured out the natural eloquence of clear 
thoughts and noble sentiments. The Count grew great 
while speaking ; his listeners were carried away by the 
magic of his voice and the clearness of his intellect. 

He was very happy this morning by the side of his old 
friend Peter Kalm, who was paying him a most welcome 
visit in New France. They had been fellow students both 
at Upsal and at Paris, and loved each other with a 
cordialit}^, that like good wine, grew richer and more 
generous with age. 

Herr Kalm stretching out his arms as if to embrace 
the lovely landscape, and clasp it to his bosom, exclaimed 
with fresh enthusiasm, “ See Quebec, and live for ever ! 

Dear Kalm,’’ said the Governor, catching the fervor 
of his friend as he rested his hand affectionately on his 
shoulder ; ‘‘■you are as true a lover of nature as when we 
sat together at the feet of Linnaeus, our glorious young 
master, and heard him open up for us the arcana of God’s 
works ; and we used to feel like him too, when he thanked 
God for permitting him to look into his treasure house, 
and see the precious things of creation which he had 
made.” 

“ Till men see Quebec,” replied Kalm, “ they will not 
fully realize the meaning of the term — ‘ God’s footstool.’ 
It is a land worth living for ! ” 

“ Not only a land to live for, but a land to die for, and 
happy the man who dies for it ! Confess, Kalm ; thou 
who hast travelled in all lands, think’st thou not, it is 
indeed worthy of its proud title of New France ?” 


4 


THE CHIEN nOR, 


It is indeed worthy,” replied Kalm ; ‘‘ I see here a 

scion of the old oak of the Gauls, which, if let grow, will 
shelter the throne of France itself, in an empire wider 
than Caesar wrested from Ambiotrix.” 

“ Yes,” replied the Count, kindling at the words of his 
friend ; it is old France transplanted, transfigured and 
glorified ! where her language, religion and laws shall be 
handed down to her posterity, the glory of North 
America as the mother land is the glory of Europe.” 

The enthusiastic Galissoniere stretched out his hands 
and implored a blessing upon the land entrusted to his 
keeping. 

It was a glorious morning. The sun had just risen 
over the hill tops of Lauzon, throwing aside his drapery of 
gold, purple and crimson. The soft haze of the summer 
morning was floating away into nothingness, leaving every 
object fresh with dew and magnified in the limpid purity 
of the air. 

The broad St. Lawrence, far beneath their feet, was 
still partially veiled in a thin blue mist, pierced here and 
there by the tall mast of a king’s ship, or merchantman 
lying unseen at anchor ; or as the fog rolled slowly off, a 
swift canoe might be seen shooting out into a streak of 
sunshine, with the first news of the morning from the 
South shore. 

Behind the Count and his companions rose the white 
glistening walls of the Hotel Dieu, and farther off the tall 
tower of the newly restored Cathedral, the belfry of the 
Recollets and the roofs of the ancient College of the 
Jesuits. An avenue of old oaks and maples shaded the 
walk, and in the branches of the trees a swarm of birds 
fluttered and sang, as if in rivalry with the gay French 
talk and laughter of the group of officers, who waited the 
return of the Governor from the bastion where he stood, 
showing the glories of Quebec to his friend. 

The walls of the city ran along the edge of the cliff 
upwards as they approached the broad gallery and massive 
front of the Castle of St. Louis, and ascending the green 
slope of the broad glacis, culminated in the lofty citadel, 
where streaming in the morning breeze, radiant in the 
sunshine, and alone in the blue sky, waved the white 
banner of France, the sight of which sent a thrill of joy 
and pride into the hearts of her faithful subjects in the 
New World. 


MEAT OF THE OLD REGIME, 


5 


The broad Bay lay before them round as a shield,, and 
glittering like a mirror as the mist blew off its surface. 
Behind the sunny slopes of Orleans, which the river 
encircled in its arms like a giant lover his fair mistress, 
rose the bold, dark crests of the Laurentides, lifting their 
bare summits far away along the course of the ancient 
river, leaving imagination to wander over the wild scenery 
in their midst — the woods, glens, and unknown lakes and 
rivers that lay hid far from human ken, or known only to 
rude savages, wild as the beasts of chase they hunted in 
those strange regions. 

Across the broad valley of the St. Charles, covered 
with green fields and ripening harvests, and dotted with 
quaint old homesteads redolent with memories of Norman- 
dy and Brittany, rose a long mountain ridge, covered with 
primeval woods, on the slope of which rose the glittering spire 
of Charlebourg, once a dangerous outpost of civilization. 
The pastoral Lairet was seen mingling its waters with 
the St. Charles in a little bay that preserves the name of 
Jacques Cartier, who with his hardy companions spent their 
first winter in Canada on this spot, the guests of the hos- 
pitable Donacana, Lord of Quebec and of all the lands 
seen from its lofty cape. 

Directly beneath the feet of the Governor on a broad 
strip of land that lay between the beach and the preci- 
pice, stood the many gabled palace of the Intendant, the 
most magnificent structure in New France. Its long 
front of eight hundred feet overlooked the royal terraces 
and gardens, and beyond these the quays and magazines 
where lay the ships of Bordeaux, St. Malo and Havre, un- 
loading the merchandize and luxuries of France in ex- 
change for the more rude but not less valuable products of 
the Colony. 

Between the Palace and the Basseville the waves at 
high tide washed over a shingly beach where there were 
already the beginnings of a street. A few rude inns dis- 
played the sign of the Fleur de Lys, or the imposing 
head of Louis XV. Round the doors of these inns in 
summer-time might always be found groups of loquacious 
Breton and Norman sailors in red caps and sashes, voy- 
ageurs and canoemen from the far west in half Indian cos- 
tume, drinking Gascon wine and Norman cider or the still 
more potent liquors filled with the fires of the Antilles. The 


6 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


Batture kindled into life on the arrival of the fleet from 
Home, and in the evenings of summer as the sun set be- 
hind the Cote a Bonhomme^ the natural magnetism of com- 
panionship drew the lasses of Quebec down to the beach 
where amid old refrains of French ditties, and the music of 
violins and tambours de Basque, they danced on the 
green with the jovial sailors who brought news from the 
old land beyond the Atlantic. 

“ Pardon me, gentlemen, for keeping you waiting,’^ said 
the Governor as he descended from the Bastion and rejoined 
his suite. “ I am so proud of our beautiful Quebec, that I can 
scarcely stop showing off its charms to my friend Herr 
Kahn, who knows so well how to appreciate them. But,’’ 
continued he, looking round admiringly on the bands of 
citizens and Habitans, w^ho were at work strengthening 
every weak point in the fortifications : “ My brave Cana- 

dians are busy as beavers on their dam. They are deter- 
mined to keep the saucy English out of Quebec. They de- 
serve to have the beaver for their crest, industrious fellows 
that they are ! I am sorry I kept you waiting, however.” 

‘‘We can never count the moments lost, which your 
Excellency gives to the survey of our fair land,” replied 
the Bishop, a grave, earnest-looking man. “ Would that 
His Majesty himself could stand on these walls and see 
with his own eyes, as you do, this splendid patrimony of 
the crown of France. He would not dream of bartering 
it away in exchange for petty ends and corners of Ger- 
many and Flanders as is rumored, my Lord.” 

“ True words and good, my Lord Bishop,” replied the 
Governor, “the retention of all Flanders now in the strong 
hands of the Marshal de Saxe would be a poor compensa- 
tion for the surrender of a glorious land like this to the 
English.” 

Flying rumors of some such proposal on the part of 
France had reached the colony, with wild reports arising 
out of the endless chaffering between the negotiators for 
peace who had already assembled at Aix la Chapelle. 
“ The fate of America will one day be decided here,” con- 
tinued the governor, “ I see it written upon this rock, who- 
ever rules Quebec will sway the destinies of the continent ! 
May our noble France be wise and understand in time the 
signs of Empire and of supremacy ! ” 

The Bishop looked upwards with a sigh : “ Our noble 


MEJV OF THE OLD REGIME. 


7 


France has not yet read those tokens, or she misunder- 
stands them. Oh, these faithful subjects of hers ! Look 
at them, your Excellency.’’ The Bishop pointed toward 
the crowd of citizens hard at work on the walls. There 
is not a man of them, but is ready to risk life and fortune 
for the honor and dominion of France, and yet they are 
treated by the court with such neglect and burthened with 
exactions that take from life the sweet reward of labor. 
They cannot do the impossible that France requires of 
them — fight her battles, till her fields, and see their bread 
taken from them by these new ordinances of the Intend- 
ant.” 

‘‘ Well, my Lord,” replied the Governor affecting a jocu- 
larity he did not feel, for he knew how true were the words 
of the Bishop. “We must all do our duty, nevertheless. 
If France requires impossibilities of us, we must perform 
them ! That is the old spirit ! If the skies fall upon our 
heads we must like true Gauls hold them up on the points 
of our lances ! What say you, Rigaud de Vaudreuil ? 
Cannot one Canadian surround ten New Englanders?” 
The Governor alluded to an exploit of the gallant officer 
whom he turned to address. 

“ Probatum esf, your Excellency ! I once with six 
hundred Canadians surrounded all New England. Prayers 
were put up in all the churches of Boston for deliverance, 
when we swept the Connecticut from end to end with a 
broom of fire.” 

“ Brave Rigaud ! France has too few like you ! ” re- 
marked the Governor with a look of admiration. 

Rigaud bowed and shook his head modestly, “ I trust 
she has ten thousand better,” but added, pointing at his 
fellow officers who stood conversing at a short distance, 
“ Marshal Saxe has few the equals of these in his camp, 
my Lord Count ! ” and well was the compliment deserved. 

They were gallant men, intelligent in looks, polished in 
manners and brave to a fault, and all full of that natural 
gaiety that sits so gracefully on a French soldier. 

Most. of them wore the laced coat and waistcoat, cha- 
peau, boots, lace ruffles, sash and rapier of the period. A 
martial costume befitting brave and handsome men. 
Their names were household words in every cottage in 
New France and many of them as frequently spoken of in 
the English colonies, as in the streets of Quebec. 


8 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


There stood the Chevalier de Beaujeu, a gentleman of 
Norman family, who was already famed upon the frontier, 
and who, seven years later in the forests of the Mononga- 
hela, crowned a life of honor by a soldier’s death on the 
bloody field won from the unfortunate Braddock, and de- 
feating an army ten times more numerous than his own. 

Talking gayly with De Beaujeu were two gallant looking 
young men, of a Canadian family which, out of seven 
brothers, lost six slain in the service of their King : 
Jumonville de Villiers, who was afterwards, in defiance of 
a flag of truce, shot down by order of Colonel Washington, 
in the far off forests of the Alleghanies ; and his brother, 
Coulon de Villiers, who received the sword of Washington 
when he surrendered himself and garrison prisoners of war, 
at Fort Necessity, in 1754. 

Coulon de Villiers imposed ignominious conditions of 
surrender upon Washington, but scorned to take other 
revenge for the death of his brother. He spared the life 
of Washington, who lived to become the leader and idol of 
his nation, which, but for the magnanimity of the noble 
Canadian, might have never struggled into independence. 

There stood also the Sieur de Lery (the King’s engi- 
neer, charged with the fortification of the colony), a man of 
Vauban’s genius in the art of defence. Had the schemes 
which he projected, and vainly urged upon the heedless 
Court of Versailles, been carried into effect, the conquest 
of New France would have been an impossibility. 

Arm in arm with De Lery, in earnest conversation, 
walked the handsome Claude de Beauharnois — brother of 
a former Governor of the colony — a graceful, gallant 
looking soldier. De Beauharnois was the ancestor of a 
vigorous and beautiful race, among whose posterity was the 
fair Hortense de Beauharnois, who in her son, Napoleon 
III., seated an offshoot of Canada upon the Imperial 
throne of France long after the abandonment of their 
ancient colony by the corrupt House of Bourbon. 

Conspicuous among the distinguished officers, by his 
tall, straight figure and quick movements, was the Cheva- 
lier la Come St. Luc, supple as an Indian and almost as 
dark, from exposure to the weather and incessant cam- 
paigning. He was fresh from the blood and desolation of 
Acadia, where France, indeed, lost her ancient colony, 
but St. Luc reaped a full sheaf of glory at Grand Pre, 


OF THE OLD REGIME, 


9 


in the Bay of Minas, by the capture of an army of New 
Englanders. The rough old soldier was just now all 
smiles and gayety, as he conversed with Monseigneur De 
Pontbriant, the venerable Bishop of Quebec, and Father 
De Berey, the Superior of the Recollets. 

The Bishop, a wise ruler of his Church, was also a 
passionate lover of his country : the surrender of Quebec 
to the English broke his heart, and he died a few months 
after the announcement of the final cession of the colony. 

Father De Berey, a jovial monk, wearing the grey 
gown and sandals of the Recollets, was renowmed through- 
out New France for his wit more than for his piety- He 
had once been a soldier, and he wore his gown, as he had 
worn his uniform, with the gallant bearing of a King’s 
Guardsman. But the people loved him all the more for 
his jests, which never lacked the accompaniment of genuine 
charity. His sayings furnished all New France with daily 
food for mirth and laughter, without detracting an iota 
of the respect in which the Recollets were held through- 
out the colony. 

Father Glapion, the Superior of the Jesuits, also accom- 
panied the Bishop. His close, black soutane contrasted 
oddly with the grey, loose gown of the Recollet. He was 
a meditative, taciturn man— seeming rather to watch the 
others than to join in the lively conversation that went on 
around him. Anything but cordiality and brotherly love 
reigned between the Jesuits and the Order of St. Francis, 
but the Superiors were too wary to manifest towards each 
other the mutual jealousies of their subordinates. 

The long line of fortifications presented a stirring 
appearance that morning. The watch-fires that had 
illuminated the scene during the night were dying out, 
the red embers paling under the rays of the rising sun. 
From a wide circle surrounding the city, the people had 
come in — many were accompanied by their wives and 
daughters — to assist in making the bulwark of the colony 
impregnable against the rumored attack of the English. 

The people of New France, taught by a hundred years 
of almost constant warfare with the English and with the 
savage nations on their frontiers, saw as clearly as the 
Governor, that the key of French dominion hung inside the 
walls of Quebec, and that for an enemy to grasp it was to 
lose all they valued as subjects of the Crown of France. 


CHAPTER IL 


THE WALLS OF QUEBEC. 

Count De la Galissoniere, accompanied by his dis- 
tinguished attendants, proceeded again on their round of 
inspection. They were everywhere saluted with heads 
uncovered and welcomed by hearty greetings. The peo- 
ple of New France had lost none of the natural polite- 
ness and ease of their ancestors ; and, as every gentle- 
man of the Governor’s suite was at once recognized, a 
conversation, friendly even to familiarity, ensued between 
them and the citizens and habitans^ who worked as if they 
were building their very souls into the walls of the old 
city. 

‘‘Good morning, Sieur De St. Denis !” gayly exclaimed 
the Governor to a tall, courtly gentleman, who was super- 
intending the labor of a body of his censitaires from Beau- 
port. “ ‘ Many hands make light work,’ says the proverb. 
That splendid battery you are just finishing deserves to be 
called Beauport. “ What say you, my Lord Bishop.^” turn- 
ing to the smiling ecclesiastic. “ Is it not worthy of bap- 
tism ? ” 

“ Yes, and blessing both : I give it my episcopal bene- 
diction,” replied the Bishop ; “ and truly I think most of 
the earth of it is taken from the consecrated ground of the 
Hotel Dieu — it will stand fire ! ” 

“ Many thanks, my Lord ! ” — the Sieur De St. Denis 
bowed very low — “ where the Church bars the door, Satan 
will never enter, nor the English either! Do you hear, 
men ? ” continued he, turning to his censitaires^ “ my Lord 
Bishop christens our battery Beauport, and says it will 
stand fire 1 ” 

“ Vive le Roi was the response, an exclamation that 
came spontaneously to the lips of all Frenchmen on every 
emergency of danger or emotion of joy. 


THE WALLS OF QUEBEC. 


II 


A sturdy hahitan came forward, and, doffing his red 
tuque or cap, addressed the Governor — “ This is a good 
battery, my Lord Governor, but there ought to be one as 
good in our village. Permit us to build one and man it ; 
and we promise your Excellency that no Englishman shall 
ever get into the back door of Quebec, while we have lives 
to defend it.’’ The old hahitan had the eye of a soldier. 
He had been one. The Governor knew the value of the 
suggestion, and at once assented to it, adding: “No better 
defenders of the city could be found anywhere than the 
brave habitans of Beauport.” 

The compliment was never forgotten ; and years after- 
wards, when Wolfe besieged the city, the batteries of 
Beauport repelled the assault of his bravest troops, and 
well nigh broke the heart of the young hero over the 
threatened defeat of his great undertaking, as his brave 
Highlanders and grenadiers lay slain by hundreds upon 
the beach of Beauport. 

The countenances of the hardy workers were suddenly 
covered with smiles of welcome recognition at the sight of 
the well-known Superior of the Recollets. 

“ Good morning ! ” cried out a score of voices ; “ good 
morning. Father De Berey ! The good wives of Beauport 
send you a thousand compliments. They are dying to see 
the good Recollets down our way again. The Grey Brothers 
have forsaken our parish.” 

“ Ah ! ” replied the Superior, in a tone of mock severity, 
while his eyes overran with mirthfulness, “ you are a 
crowd of miserable sinners who will die without benefit of 
clergy — only you don’t know it ! Who was it boiled the 
Easter eggs hard as agates which you gave to my poor 
brother Recollets for the use of our convent ? Tell me 
that, pray ! All the salts and senna in Quebec have not 
sufficed to restore the digestion of my poor monks since 
you played that trick upon them down in your misnamed 
village of Beauport ! ” 

“Pardon! Reverend Father De Berey!” replied a 
smiling hahitan : “ it was not we, but the sacrilegious 
canaille of St. Anne, who boiled the Easter eggs ! If you 
don’t believe us send some of the good Grey Friars down to 
. try our love. See if they do not find everything soft for 
them at Beauport, from our hearts to our feather beds, to 
say nothing of our eggs and bacon. Our good wives are 


12 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


fairly melting with longing for a sight of the grey gowns 
of St. Francis once more in our village.” 

‘‘ Oh ! I dare be bound the canaille of St. Anne are lost 
dogs like yourselves — Catidi catuloruml^ 

The habita7is thought this sounded like a doxology, and 
some crossed themselves, amid the dubious laughter of 
others, who suspected Father De Berey of a clerical jest. 

Oh ! ” continued he, if fat Father Ambrose, the cook 
of the convent, only had you, one at a time, to turn the 
spit for him, in place of the poor dogs of Quebec, which 
he has to catch as best he can, and set to work in his 
kitchen ! but, vagabonds that you are, you are rarely set 
to work now on the King’s corvh — all work, little play, and 
no pay ! ” 

The men took his raillery in excellent part, and one, 
their spokesman, bowing low to the Superior, said : For- 
give us all the same, good Father. The hard eggs of 
Beauport will be soft as lard compared with the iron 
shells we are preparing for the English breakfast when 
they shall appear some fine morning before Quebec.” 

Ah, well, in that case I must pardon the trick you 
played upon Brothers Mark and Alexis — and I give you 
my blessing, too, on condition you send some salt to our 
convent to cure our fish, and save your reputations, which 
are very stale just now among my good Recollets.” 

A general laugh followed this sally, and the Reverend 
Superior went off merrily, as he hastened to catch up 
with the Governor, who had moved on to another point in 
the line of fortifications. 

Near the gate of St. John they found a couple of ladies, 
encouraging by their presence and kind words a numerous 
party of habitans — one an elderly lady of noble bearing 
and still beautiful, the rich and powerful feudal Lady of 
the Lordship or Seigneurie of Tilly ; the other her orphan 
niece, in the bloom of youth, and of surpassing loveliness 
— the fair Amelie De Repentigny, who had loyally accom- 
panied her aunt to the capital with all the men of the 
Seigneurie of Tilly, to assist in the completion of its 
defences. 

To features which looked as if chiselled out of the purest 
Parian marble, just flushed with the glow of morn, and 
cut in those perfect lines of proportion which nature only 
bestows on a few chosen favorites at intervals to show the 


THE WALLS OF QUEBEC. 


13 


possibilities of feminine beauty, Amelie De Repentigny 
added a figure which, in its perfect symmetry, looked 
smaller than it really was, for she was' a tall girl : it filled 
the eye and held fast the fancy with the charms of a thou- 
sand graces as she moved or stood, suggestive of the 
beauty of a tame fawn, that in all its movements pre- 
serves somewhat of the coyness and easy grace of its free life 

Her hair was very dark and thick, matching her deep 
liquid eyes, that lay for the most part so quietly and rest- 
fully beneath their long shading lashes. Eyes gentle, 
frank, and modest — looking tenderly on all things innocent, 
fearlessly on all things harmful ; eyes that nevertheless 
noted every change of your countenance, and read uner- 
ringly your meaning more from your looks than from 
your words. Nothing seemed to hide itself from that 
pure, searching glance when she chose to look at you. 

In their depths you might read the tokens of a rare 
and noble character — a capability of loving which, once 
enkindled by a worthy object, might make all things that 
are possible to devoted womanhood, possible to this 
woman, who would not count her life anything either 
for the man she loved or the cause she espoused. Amelie 
De Repentigny will not yield her heart without her judg- 
ment ; but when she does, it will be a royal gift — never to 
be recalled, never to be repented of, to the end of her life. 
Happy the man upon whom she shall bestow her affec- 
tion ! It will be his forever. Unhappy all others who 
may love her ! She may pity, but she will listen to no 
voice but the one which rules her heart, to her life’s end ! 

Both ladies were in mourning, yet dressed with elegant 
simplicity, befitting their rank and position in society. The 
Chevalier Le Gardeur de Tilly had fallen two years ago, 
fighting gallantly for his King and country, leaving a child- 
less widow to manage his vast domain and succeed him as 
sole guardian of their orphan niece, Amelie de Repen- 
tigny, and her brother Le Gardeur, left in infancy to the 
care of their noble relatives, who in every respect treated 
them as their own, and who, indeed, were the legal inheri- 
tors of the Lordship of Tilly. 

Only a year ago, Amelie had left the ancient convent 
of the Ursulines, perfected in all the graces and accom- 
plishments taught in the famous cloister founded by Mere 
Marie de I’lncarnation, for the education of the daughters 


14 


THE CHIEN n OR, 


of New France, generation after generation of whom were 
trained according to her precepts, in graces of manner, as 
well as in the learning of the age — the latter might be for- 
gotten — the former, never. As they became the wives and 
mothers of succeeding times, they have left upon their de- 
scendants an impress of politeness and urbanity that distin- 
guishes the people of Canada to this day. 

Of all the crowd of fair eager aspirants contending for 
honors on the day of examination in the great school, 
crowns had only been awarded to Amelie and to Angelique 
des Meloises. Two girls equal in beauty, grace and ac- 
complishments, but unlike in character and in destiny. 
The currents of their lives ran smoothly together at the 
beginning. How widely different was to be the ending of 
them ! 

The brother of Amelie, Le Gardeur de Repentigny, 
was her elder by a year — an officer in the King’s service, 
handsome, brave, generous, devoted to his sister and aunt, 
but not free from some of the vices of the times, prevalent 
among the young men of rank and fortune in the colony, 
who in dress, luxury and immorality, strove to imitate the 
brilliant, dissolute Court of Louis XV. 

Amelie passionately loved her brother, and endeavored 
— not without success, as is the way with women — to blind 
herself to his faults. She saw him seldom, however, and 
in her solitary musings in the far off Manor House of Tilly, 
she invested him with all the perfections he did and did 
not possess ; and turned a deaf, almost an angry ear, to tales 
whispered in his disparagement. 


CHAPTER HI. 

A CHATELAINE OF NEW FRANCE. 

The Governor was surprised and delighted to encounter 
Lady de Tilly and her fair niece, both of whom were well 
known to, and highly esteemed by him. He and the gentle- 
men of his suite saluted them with profound respect, not 
unmingled with chivalrous admiration for noble, high- 
spirited women. 


A CHATELAINE OF NEW EEANCE. 


15 


My honored Lady de Tilly and Mademoiselle de Re- 
pentigny : ” said the Governor — hat in hand — ‘‘ welcome 
to Quebec^ It does not surprise, but it does delight me 
beyond measure to meet you here at the head of your loyal 
censitaires. But it is not the first time that the ladies of 
the House of Tilly have turned out to defend the King’s 
forts against his enemies.” 

This he said in allusion to the gallant defence of a fort 
on the wild Iroquois frontier, by a former lady of her house, 
who, while her husband lay wounded within the walls, as- 
sumed the command of the garrison, repulsed the savage 
enemy, and saved the lives of all from the fire and scalping 
knife. 

“ My Lord Count ! ” replied the Lady with quiet dignity, 
‘‘ ’Tis no special merit of the house of Tilly to be true to 
its ancient fame. It could not be otherwise. But your 
thanks are at this time more due to these loyal Habitans^ 
who have so promptly obeyed your proclamation. It is the 
King’s corvke to restore the walls of Quebec, and no 
Canadian may withhold his hand from it without disgrace.” 

‘‘ The Chevalier La Come St. Luc will think us two poor 
women a weak accession to the garrison,” added she, turn- 
ing to the Chevalier and cordially offering her hand to the 
brave old officer who had been the comrade in arms and 
the dearest friend of her family. 

‘‘Good blood never fails. My Lady,” returned the 
Chevalier warmly grasping her hand, “you out of place here ! 
no ! no ! you are at home on the ramparts of Quebec, quite 
as much as in your own drawing-room at Tilly. The gal- 
lant King Francis used to say, that a court without ladies, 
was a year without a spring and a summer without roses. 
The walls of Quebec without a Tilly and a Repentigny 
would be a bad omen indeed, worse than a year without a 
spring or a summer without roses. But where is my dear 
goddaughter Amelie } ” 

As he spoke the old soldier embraced Amelie and 
kissed her cheek with fatherly effusion. She was a prodig- 
ious favorite. “Welcome Amelie !” said he, “the sight of 
you is like flowers in June. What a glorious time you have 
had, growing taller and prettier every day, all the time I 
have been sleeping by camp fires in the forests of Acadia ! 
But you girls are all alike ; why I hardly knew my own 
pretty Agathe when I came home. The saucy minx almost 


1 6 THE CIIIEN nOR. 

kissed my eyes out, to dry the tears of joy in them, she 
said ! ’’ 

Amelie blushed deeply at the praises bestowed upon 
her, yet felt glad to know that her godfather retained all 
his old affection. ‘Where is Le Gardeur ? ’’ asked he, as 
she took his arm and walked a few paces apart from the 
throng. ! 

Amelie colored deeply and hesitated a moment. “ I do 
not know, godfather ! We have not seen Le Gardeur since 
our arrival.’' Then after a nervous silence she added : “ I 
have been told that he is at Beaumanoir, hunting with His 
Excellency the Intendant.” 

La Come, seeing her embarrassment, understood the 
reluctance of her avowal, and sympathized with it. An 
angry light flashed beneath his shaggy eyelashes, but he 
suppressed his thoughts. He could not help remarking 
however, “With the Intendant at Beaumanoir! I could 
have wished Le Gardeur in better company ! No good 
can come of his intimacy with Bigot, Amelie, you must 
wean him from it. He should have been in the city to 
receive you and the Lady de Tilly.” 

“ So he doubtless would have been, had he known of 
our coming. We sent word, but he was away when our 
messenger reached the city.” 

Amelie felt half ashamed, for she was conscious that 
she was offering something unreal to extenuate the fault of 
her brother. Her hopes rather than her convictions. 

“ Well, well ! goddaughter I we shall, at any rate, soon 
have the pleasure of seeing Le Gardeur. The Intendant 
himself has been summoned to attend a council of war to- 
day. Colonel Philibert left an hour ago for Beaumanoir.” 

Amelie gave a slight start at the name, she looked in- 
quiringly, but did not yet ask the question that trembled on 
her lips. 

“ Thanks, godfather, for the good news of Le Gardeur’s 
speedy return.” Amelie talked on, her thoughts but little 
accompanying her words, as she repeated to herself the 
name of Philibert. “ Have you heard that the Intendant 
wishes to bestow an important and honorable post in the 
Palace upon Le Gardeur,— my brother wrote to that effect ?” 

“An important and honorable post in the Palace.” 
The old soldier emphasized the word honorable. “ No, I 
had not heard of it, never expqct to hear of an honorable 


A CHATELAINE OF NEW FRANCE. 


17 


post in the company of Bigot, Cadet, Varin, De Pean, and 
the rest of the scoundrels of the Friponne 1 Pardon me, 
dear, I do not class Le Gardeur among them, far from it, 
dear deluded boy ! My best hope is that Colonel Philibert 
will find him and bring him clean and clear out of their 
clutches.’’ 

• The question that had trembled on her lips came out 
now. For her life she could not have retained it longer. 

‘‘Who is Colonel Philibert.? godfather,” asked she, 
surprise, curiosity and a still deeper interest marking her 
voice, in spite of all she could do to appear indifferent. 

“Colonel Philibert.?” repeated La Come. “Why, do 
not you know ? who, but our young Pierre Philibert, you 
have not forgotten him surely, Amelie ? At any rate he 
has not forgotten you. In many a long night by our watch 
fires in the forest, has Colonel Philibert passed the hours 
talking of Tilly and the dear friends he left there. Your 
brother at any rate will gratefully remember Philibert when 
he sees him.” 

Amelie blushed a little as she replied somewhat shyly. 
Yes, godfather, I remember Pierre Philibert very well — • 
with gratitude I remember him — but I never heard him 
called Colonel Philibert before.” 

“ Oh, true ! He has been so long absent. He left a 
simple ensign e7i second and returns a Colonel, and has the 
stuff in him to make a Field Marshal ! He gained his 
rank where he won his glory, in Acadia. A noble fellow 
Amelie, loving as a woman to his friends ; but to his foes, 
stern as the old Bourgeois, his father, who placed that 
tablet of the golden dog upon the front of his house to spite 
the Cardinal they say. The act of a bold man let what 
will be the true interpretation of it.” 

“ I hear everyone speak well of the Bourgeois Philibert.” 
remarked Amelie, “ Aunt de Tilly is ever enthusiastic in 
his commendation. She says he is a true gentleman, 
although a trader.” 

“ Wh}^, he is noble by birth, if that be needed, and has 
got the king’s license to trade in the colony like some 
other gentlemen I wot of. He was Count Philibert in 
Normandy, although he is plain Bourgeois Philibert in 
Quebec, and a wise man he is too, for with his ships and his 
comptoirs and his ledgers he has traded himself into being 
the richest man in New France, while we with our nobility 


i8 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


and our swords have fought ourselves poor, and receive 
nothing but contempt from the ungrateful courtiers of 
Versailles.’’ 

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden rush of 
people, making room for the passage of the Regiment of 
Bearn, which composed part of the garrison of Quebec, on 
their march to their morning drill, and guard mountingf^ 
bold dashing Gascons in blue and white uniforms, tall caps 
and long queues rollicking down their supple backs, seldom 
seen by an enemy. 

Mounted officers, laced and ruffled, gayly rode in front. 
Subalterns with spontoons and sergeants with halberts 
dressed the long line of glistening bayonets. The drums 
and fifes made the streets ring again, while the men in full 
chorus, a gorge deployee., chanted the gay refrain of La Belle 
Canadienne^ in honor of the lasses of Quebec whose bright 
eyes ever looked kindly upon the royal uniform, and whose 
sweet smiles were never withheld from the gallant soldiers 
wearing it, whether Gaul or Briton. 

The Governor and his suite had already mounted their 
horses which were waiting for them at the city gate, and 
cantered off to the Esplanade to witness the review. 

“ Come and dine with us to-day,” said the Lady de 
Tilly to La Come St. Luc, as he too bade the ladies a court- 
eous adieu, and got on horseback to ride after the Governor. 

Many thanks ! but I fear it will be impossible, my 
lady. The council of war meets at the Castle this after- 
noon. The hour may be deferred, however, should Colonel 
Philibert not chance to find the Intendant at Beaumanoir, 
and then I might come ; but best not expect me.” 

A slight conscious flush just touched the cheek of 
Amelie at the mention of Colonel Philibert. 

“ But come if possible, godfather,” added she, we hope 
to have Le Gardeur home this afternoon. He loves you 
so much, and I know you have countless things to say to 
him.” 

Amdlie’s trembling anxiety about her brother, made her 
most desirous to bring the powerful influence of La Come 
St. Luc to bear upon him. 

Their kind old godfather was regarded with filial rev- 
erence by both. Amdlie’s father dying on the battle field, 
had with his latest breath commended the care of his 
children to the love and friendship of La Come St. Luc. 


A CHATELAINE OF NEW FRANCE. 


19 


“ Well Amalie, blessed are they who do not promise 
and still perform. I must try and meet my dear boy, so 
do not quite place me among the impossibles. Good bye, 
my Lady. Good bye, Amelie.” The old soldier gaily 
kissed his hand and rode away. 

Amelie was thoroughly surprised, and agitated out of 
^1 composure by the news of the return of Pierre Philibert. 
She turned aside from the busy throng that surrounded 
her, leaving her aunt engaged in eager conversation with the 
Bishop and Father de Berey. She sat down in a quiet em- 
brasure of the wall, and with one hand resting her ,droop- 
ing cheek, a train of reminiscences flew across her mind 
like a flight of pure doves suddenly startled out of a 
thicket. 

She remembered vividly Pierre Philibert the friend and 
fellow student of her brother. He spent so many of his 
holidays at the old manor house of Tilly, when she, a still 
younger girl, shared their sports, wove chaplets of flowers 
for them, or on her shaggy pony rode with them on many 
a scamper through the wild woods of the Seigneurie. 
Those summer and winter vacations of the old Seminary 
of Quebec used to be looked forward to by the young lively 
girl as the brightest spots in the whole year, and she grew 
hardly to distinguish the affection she bore her brother 
from the regard in which she held Pierre Philibert. 

A startling incident happened one day, that filled the 
inmates of the Manor house with terror, followed by a 
great joy, and which raised Pierre Philibert to the rank 
of an unparalleled hero in the imagination of the young 
girl. 

Her brother was gambolling carelessly in a canoe, 
while she and Pierre sat on the bank watching him. The 
light craft suddenly upset. Le Gardeur struggled for a 
few moments and sank under the blue waves that look so 
beautiful and are so cruel. 

Amelie shrieked in the wildest terror and in helpless 
agony, while Philibert rushed without hesitation into the 
water ; swam out to the spot and dived with the agility of 
a beaver. He presently re-appeared bearing the inanimate 
body of her brother to the shore. Help was soon obtain- 
ed and after long efforts to restore Le Gardeur to con- 
sciousness, efforts which seemed to last an age to the des- 
pairing girl, they at last succeeded, and Le Gardeur was 


20 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


restored to the arms of his family. Amalie, in a delirium 
of joy and gratitude, ran to Philibert, threw her arms 
round him and kissed him again and again, pledging her 
eternal gratitude to the preserver of her brother, and vow- 
ing that she would pray for him to her life’s end. 

Soon after that memorable event in her young life, 
Pierre Philibert was sent to the great military schools in 
France, to study the art of war, with a view to entering the 
King’s service ; while Amelie was placed in the Convent 
of the Ursulines to be perfected in all the knowledge and 
accomplishments of a lady of highest rank in the Colony. 

Despite the cold shade of a cloister, where the idea of 
a lover is forbidden to enter, the image of Pierre Philibert 
did intrude, and became inseparable from the recollection 
of her brother in the mind of Amelie. He mingled as the 
fairy prince in the day dreams and bright imaginings of 
the young poetic girl. She had vowed to pray for him to 
her life’s end, and in pursuance of her vow added a golden 
bead to her chaplet to remind her of her duty in praying 
for the safety and happiness of Pierre Philibert. 

But in the quiet life of the Cloister, Amelie heard little 
of the storms of war upon the frontier, and down in the 
far valleys of Acadia. She had not followed the career 
of Pierre from the military school to the camp and the 
battle field, nor knew of his rapid promotion as one of the 
ablest officers in the King’s service to a high command in 
his native Colony. 

Her surprise, therefore, was extreme when she learned 
that the boy companion of her brother and herself was 
no other than the renowned Colonel Philibert, Aid de Camp 
of His Excellency the Governor General. 

There was no cause for shame in it ; but her heart was 
suddenly illuminated by a flash of introspection. She be- 
came painfully conscious how much Pierre Philibert had 
occupied her thoughts for years, and now all at once she 
knew he was a man, and a great and noble one. She was 
thoroughly perplexed and half angry. She questioned her- 
self sharply, as if running thorns into her flesh, to inquire 
whether she had failed in the least point of maidenly 
modesty and reserve, in thinking so much of him ; and 
the more she questioned herself the more agitated she 
grew under her self-accusation. Her temples throbbed 
violently. She hardly dared lift her eyes from the ground 


A CHATELAINE OF AEW EEANCE. 


21 


lest some one, even a stranger, she thought, might see her 
confusion and read its cause. Sancta Maria,’’ she mur- 
mured, pressing her bosom with both hands, ‘‘ calm my 
soul with thy divine peace, for I know not what to do ! ” 

So she sat alone in the embrasure, living a life of emo- 
tion in a few minutes ; nor did she find any calm for her 
agitated spirits until the thought flashed upon her that she 
was distressing herself needlessly. It was most improba- 
ble that Colonel Philibert, after years of absence and ac- 
tive life in the world’s great affairs, could retain any recol- 
lection of the school girl of the Manor house of Tilly. 
She might meet him, nay, was certain to do so in the society 
in which both moved ; but it would surely be as a stranger 
on his part, and she must make it so on her own. 

With this empty piece of casuistry, Amelie, like others 
of her sex, placed a hand of steel, encased in a silken 
glove, upon her heart, and tyrannically suppressed its yearn- 
ings. She was a victim, with the outward show of conquest 
over her feelings. In the consciousness of Philibert’s im- 
agined indifference, and utter forgetfulness, she could meet 
him now, she thought, with equanimity — nay, rather wish- 
ed to do so, to make sure that she had not been guilty of 
weakness in regard to him. She looked up, but was glad 
to see her aunt still engaged in conversation with the 
Bishop, on a topic which Amelie knew was dear to them 
both, the care of the souls and bodies of the poor, in par- 
ticular those for whom the Lady de Tilly felt herself re- 
sponsible to God and the King. 

While Amelie sat thinking over the strange chances of 
the morning, a sudden whirl of wheels drew her attention. 
A gay caleche, drawn by two spirited horses, e/i fleche^ dash- 
ed through the gateway of St. John, and wheeling swiftly to- 
wards Amelie, suddenly halted. A young lady, attired in the 
gayest fashion of the period, throwing the reins to the 
groom, sprang out of the caleche’ with the ease and elas- 
ticity of an antelope. She ran up the rampart to Amelie 
with a glad cry of recognition, repeating her name in a 
clear musical voice, which Amelie at once knew belonged 
to no other than the gay, beautiful Angelique des Meloises. 
The new comer embraced Amelie and kissed her with 
warmest expressions of joy at meeting her thus unexpect- 
edly in the city. She had learned that Lady de Tilly had 
returned to Quebec, she said, and she had, therefore, taken 


22 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


the earliest opportunity to find out her dear friend and 
school fellow, to tell her all the doings in the city. 

It is kind of you, Angelique,” replied Amelie, return- 
ing her caress warmly, but without effusion. ‘‘We have 
simply come with our people to assist in the King’s corvee. 
When that is done we shall return to Tilly. I felt sure I 
should meet you, and thought I should know you again 
easily, which I hardly do. How you are changed, for the 
better, I should say, since you left off conventual cap and 
costume ! ” Amelie could not but look admiringly on the 
beauty of the radiant girl. “ How handsome you have 
grown ! but you were always that. We both took the 
crown of honor together, but you would alone take the 
crown of beauty, Angelique.” Amelie stood off a pace or 
two and looked at her friend from head to foot with honest 
admiration, “ and would deserve to wear it too,” added she. 

“ I like to hear you say that, Amelie, I should prefer 
the crown of beauty to all other crowns ! You half smile 
at that, but I must tell the truth, if you do. But you were 
always a truth-teller, you know, in the convent, and I was 
not so ! Let us cease flatteries.” 

Angelique felt highly flattered by the praise of Amelie 
whom she had sometimes condescended to envy for her 
graceful figure and lovely expressive features. 

“ Gentlemen often speak as you do, AmeMe,” continued 
she, “ but, pshaw ! they cannot judge as girls do, you 
know. But do you really think me beautiful ? and how 
beautiful ? Compare me to some one we know.” 

“ I can only compare you to yourself, Angelique. You 
are more beautiful than any one I know,” Amelie burst 
out in frank enthusiasm. 

“ But, really and truly, do you think me beautiful, not 
only in your 'eyes, but in the judgment of the world ? ” 
Angelique brushed back her glorious hair and stared 
fixedly in the face of her friend, as if seeking confirmation 
of something in her own thoughts. 

“What a strange question, Angelique. Why do you 
ask me in that way ? ” 

“ Because,” replied she with bitterness, “ I begin to 
doubt it. I have been praised for my good looks until 1 grow 
weary of the iteration ; but I believed the lying flattery 
once, as what woman would not, when it is repeated every 
day of her life ? ” 


A CHATELAINE OF NEW FRANCE. 


23 


Amalie looked sufficiently puzzled. ‘‘ What has come 
over you, Angelique 1 Why should you doubt your own 
charms ? or really, have you found at last a case in which 
they fail you ” 

• Very unlikely, a man would say, at first, second or 
third sight of Angelique des Meloises. She was indeed a 
fair girl to look upon ; tall, and fashioned in nature’s most 
voluptuous mould, perfect in the symmetry of every part, 
with an ease and beauty of movement not suggestive of 
spiritual graces, like Amelie’s, but of terrestrial witcheries 
like those great women of old who drew down the very 
gods from Olympus, and who in all ages have incited men 
to the noblest deeds, or tempted them to the greatest crimes. 

She was beautiful of that rare type of beauty which is 
only reproduced once or twice in a century to realize 
the dreams of a Titian or a Giorgione. Her com- 
plexion was clear and radiant, as of a descendant of the 
Sun God. Her bright hair, if its golden ripples were 
shaken out, would reach to her knees. Her face was 
worthy of immortality by the pencil of a Titian. Her 
dark eyes drew with a magnetism which attracted men in 
spite of themselves, whithersoever she would lead them. 
They were never so dangerous as when in apparent repose, 
they sheathed their fascination for a moment, and sudden- 
ly shot a backv^ard gljnce, like a Parthian arrow, from un- 
der their long eyelashes, that left a wound to be sighed 
over for many a day. 

The spoiled and petted child of the brave, careless 
Renaud d’Avesne des Meloises, of an ancient family in the 
Nivernois, Angelique grew up a motherless girl, clever 
above most of her companions, conscious of superior 
charms, always admired and flattered, and, since she left 
the Convent, worshipped as the idol of the gay gallants of 
the city, and the despair and envy of her own sex. She 
was a born sovereign of men, and she felt it. It was her 
divine right to be preferred. She trod the earth with dainty 
feet, and a step aspiring as that of the fair Louise de La 
Valiere when she danced in the Royal ballet in the forest 
of Fontainebleau and stole a king’s heart by the flashes of 
her pretty feet. Angelique had been indulged by her 
father in every caprice, and in the gay world inhaled the 
incense of adulation until she regarded it as her right, and 
resented passionately when it was withheld. 


24 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


She was not by nature bad, although vain, selfish and 
aspiring. Her footstool was the hearts of men, and upon 
it she set hard her beautiful feet, indifferent to the anguish 
caused by her capricious tyranny. She was cold and calcu- 
lating under the warm passions of a voluptuous nature. 
Although many might believe they had won the favor, none 
felt sure they had gained the love of this fair capricious 
girl. 


CHAPTER IV. 

CONFIDENCES. 

Angelique took the arm of Amalie in her old, familiar 
school girl way, and led her to the sunny corner of a bas- 
tion where lay a dismounted cannon. The green slope of 
the long hill side of Charlebourg was visible through an 
embrasure, like a landscape framed in massive stone. 

The girls sat down upon the old gun. Angelique held 
Amelie by both hands, as if hesitating how to express 
something she wished to say. Still, when Angdique did 
speak, it was plain to Amelie that she had other things on 
her mind than what her tongue gave "loose to. 

‘‘ Now we are quite alone, Amelie,” said she, we can 
talk as we used to do in our school days. You have not 
been in the city during the whole summer, and have mis- 
sed all its gaieties ? ” 

“ I was well content ! how beautiful the country looks 
from here,” replied Amelie, glancing out of the embrasure 
at the green fields and gorgeous summer woods that lay 
across the valley of the St. Charles. “ How much pleas- 
anter to be in it, revelling among the flowers and under 
the trees ! I like to touch the country as well as to look 
at it from a distance, as you do in Quebec.” 

Well, I never care for the country if I can only get 
enough of the city. Quebec was never so gay as it has 
been this year. The royal Roussillon and the freshly ar- 
rived regiments of Bearn and Ponthieu, have turned the 
heads of all Quebec, — of the girls, that is. Gallants have 
been plenty as bilberries in August. And you may be sure I 


CONFIDENCES, 


25 

got my share, Amelie.” Angelique laughed aloud at some 
secret reminiscences of her summer campaign. 

‘‘ It is well I did not come to the city, Angelique, to 
get my head turned like the rest ! but now that I am here, 
suppose I should mercifully try to heal some of the hearts 
you have broken ! 

‘‘ I hope you wont try. Tl^se bright eyes of yours 
would heal too effectually the wounds made by mine, and 
that is not what I desire,” replied Angelique, laughing. 

“ No ! then your heart is more cruel than your eyes. 
But, tell me, who have been your victims this year, Ange- 
lique ? ” 

Well, to be frank, Amelie, I have tried my fascinations 
upon the king’s officers very impartially, and with fair suc- 
cess. There have been three duels, two deaths, and one 
Captain of the royal Roussillon turned cordelier for my 
sake. Is that not a fair return for my labor ” 

‘‘ You are shocking as ever, Angelique 1 I do not be- 
lieve you feel proud of such triumphs,” exclaimed Amelie. 

“ Proud, no ! I am not proud of conquering men. 
That is easy ! My triumphs are over the women ! and the 
way to triumph over them is to subdue the men. You 
know my old rival at school, the haughty Frangoise de 
Lantagnac ; I owed her a grudge, and she has put on the 
black veil for life, instead of the white one and orange 
blossoms for a day ! I only meant to frighten her, how- 
ever, when I stole her lover, but she took it to heart and 
went into the Convent. It was dangerous for her to chal- 
lenge Angelique des Meloises to test the fidelity of her af- 
fianced, Julien de St. Croix.” 

Amelie rose up in honest indignation. Her cheek 
burning like a coal of fire. I know your wild talk of old, 
Angelique, but I will not believe you are so wicked as to 
make deadly sport of our holiest affections.” 

Ah, if you knew men as I do, Amelie, you would 
think it no sin to punish them for their perjuries ; but you 
are a nun in experience, and never woke out of a girl’s 
dream of love, as I have ’ done.” Angelique seemed to 
make this remark in aliard monotone as much to herself 
as to her companion. 

“ No, I don’t know men,” replied Amffiie, “ but I 
think a good noble man is after God the worthiest object 
of a woman’s devotion. We were better dead than finding 


26 


THE CHlEN no R. 


amusement in the pain of those who love us ; pray what 
became of Julien de St. Croix after you broke up his in- 
tended marriage with poor Franoigse.” 

“ O ! him I threw to the fishes ! what did I care for 
him ? It was mainly to punish Fran9oise’ presumption that 
I showed my power and made him fight that desperate 
duel with Captain LeFranc.’^ 

O, Angelique, how could you be so unutterably wicked ?’’ 

“ Wicked ? It was not my fault, you know, that he was 
•billed. He was my champion and ought to have come 
jff victor. I wore a black ribbon for him a full half year, 
and had the credit of being devoted to his memory ; I had 
my triumph in that if in nothing else.’’ 

‘‘ Your triumph ! for shame, Angelique. I will not 
'isten to you ; you profane the very name of love by utter- 
ing such sentiments. The gift of so much beauty was for 
blessing, not for pa.in. St. Mary pray for you, Angelique, 
you need her prayers ! ” Amelie rose up suddenly. 

‘‘Nay, do not get angry and go off that way, Amelie,” 
ejaculated Angelique. “ I will do penance for my tri- 
umphs by relating my defeats, and my special failure of 
all, which I know you will rejoice to hear.” 

“ I, Angelique ! What have your triumphs- or failures 
ro do with me? No, I care not to hear.” Angelique held 
tier half forcibly by the scarf. 

“ But you will care when I tell you that I met an old 
and valued friend of yours last night at the Castle. The 
new Aide-de-Camp of the Governor, Colonel' Philibert. I 
think I have heard you speak of Pierre Philibert in the 
Convent, Amelie ? ” 

Amdlie felt the net thrown over her by the skilful Re- 
tiaria. She stood stock still in mute surprise, with averted 
eye and deeply blushing cheek, fighting desperately with 
the confusion she feared to let Angelique detect. But that 
keen sighted girl saw too clearly — she had caught her fast 
as a bird is caught by the fowler. 

“Yes, I met with a double defeat last night,” continued 
Angelique. 

“ Indeed ! pray from whom ? ” Amelie’s curiosity though 
not usually a troublesome quality, was by this time fairly 
roused. 

Angelique saw her drift, and played with her anxiety 
for a few moments. 


V 


CONFIDENCES. 


27 


“ My first rebuff was from that gentlemanly philosopher 
from Sweden, a great friend of the Governor, you know. 
But alas, I might as well have tried to fascinate an iceberg ! 
His talk was all of the flowers of the field. He has not 
gallantry to give you a rose before he has dissected it to 
the very calyx. I do not believe that he knew after 
half an hour’s conversation with me, whether I was man or 
woman. That was defeat number one.” 

‘‘ And what was number two } ” Amelie was now thor- 
oughly interested in Angelique’s gossip. 

‘‘ I left the dry unappreciative philosopher and devoted 
myself to charm the handsome Colonel Philibert. He 
was all wit and courtesy. But my failure was even more 
signal with him than with the cold Swede.” 

Amelie’s eyes gave a sparkle of joy, which did not es- 
cape Angelique, but she pretended not to see it. ‘‘ How 
was that ? Tell me, pray, how you failed with Colonel Phil- 
ibert ? ” 

‘‘ My cause of failure would not be a lesson for you, 
Amelie. Listen ; I got a speedy introduction to Colonel 
Philibert, who I confess is one of the handsomest men I 
ever saw. I was bent on attracting him.” 

‘‘ For shame, Angelique ! How could you confess to 
ought so unwomanly } ” There was a warmth in Amelie’s 
tone that was less noticed by herself than by her compan- 
ion. 

“ Well, it is my way of conquering the King’s army. I 
shot my whole quiver of arrows at Colonel Philibert, but 
to my chagrin hit not a vital part ! He parried every one 
and returned them broken at my feet. His persistent 
questioning about yourself, as soon as he discovered we had 
been school companions in the Convent, quite foiled me. 
He was full of interest about you, and all that concerned 
you, but cared not a fig about me ! ” 

“ What could Colonel Philibert have to ask you about 
me ? ” Amelie unconsciously drew closer to her compan- 
ion and even clasped her arm by an involuntary movement 
which did not escape her friend. 

“ Why he asked everything a gentleman could with 
proper respect ask about a lady.” 

‘‘ And what did you say ? ” 

“ O, not half enough to content him. I confess I felt 
piqued that he only looked upon me as a sort of Pythoness 


28 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


to solve enigmas about you. I had a grim satisfaction in 
leaving his curiosity irritated, but not satisfied. I praised 
your beauty, goodness and cleverness up to the skies, how- 
ever. I was not untrue to old friendship, Amelie ! An- 
gelique kissed her friend on the cheek, who silently allow- 
ed what in her indignation a few moments ago she would 
have refused. 

“ But what said Colonel Philibert of himself ? Never 
mind about me.’’ 

“O, impatient that you are ! He said nothing of him- 
self. He was absorbed in my stories concerning you. I 
told him as pretty a fable as La Fontaine related of the 
Avare qui avait perdu son tresor I I said you were a beau- 
tiful Chatelaine besieged by an army of lovers, but the 
knight errant Fortunatus had alone won your favor, and 
would receive your hand ! The brave Colonel ! I could 
see he winced at this. His steel cuirass was not invulner- 
able. I drew blood, which is more than you would have 
dared to do Amelie ! But I discovered the truth hidden 
in his heart. He is in love with you, Amelie De Repent- 
igny ! ” 

“ Mad girl ! How could you ? How dare you speak so 
of me ? What must Colonel Philibert think ? ” 

‘‘ Think ? He thinks you must be the most perfect of 
your sex ! Why, his mind was made up about you, Ame- 
lie before he said a word to me.. Indeed, he only just 
wanted to enjoy the supernal pleasure of hearing me sing 
the praises of Amelie De Repentigny to the tune com- 
posed by himself.” 

“ Which you seem to have done, Angelique ! ” 

As musically as Aunt Mere St. Borgia, when singing 
vespers in the Ursulines,” was Angelique’s flippant reply. 

Amdie knew how useless it was to expostulate. She 
swallowed her mingled pleasure and vexation salt with tears 
she could not help. She changed the subject by a vio- 
lent wrench, and asked Angelique when she had last seen 
Le Gardeur. 

“ At the Indendant’s Levee the other day. How like 
you he is too, only less amiable ! ” 

Angelique did not respond readily to her friend’s ques- 
tion about her brother. 

“ Less amiable ? that is not like my brother. Why do 
you think him less amiable than me ? ” 


CONFIDENCES, 


29 


“ Because he got angry with me at the ball given in 
honor of the arrival of the Intendant, and I have not been 
able yet to restore him to perfect good humor with me 
since.” 

“ O, then Le Gardeur completes the trio of those who 
are proof against your fascinations ? ” Amelie was secret- 
ly giad to hear of the displeasure of Le Gardeur with An- 
gelique.” 

“ Not at all, I hope, Amelie. I don’t place Le Gardeur 
in the same category with my other admirers. But he 
got offended because I seemed to neglect him a little to 
cultivate this gay new Intendant. Do you know him ? ” 

“No! nor wish to ! I have heard much said to his 
disadvantage. The Chevalier La Come St. Luc has open- 
ly expressed his dislike of the Intendant for something 
that happened in Acadia.” 

“ O, the Chevalier La Come is always so decided in his 
likes and dislikes — one must either be very good or very 
bad to satisfy him,” replied Angelique with a scornful pout 
of her lips. 

“ Don’t speak ill of my god-father, Angelique ; better 
be profane on any other topic ; you know my ideal of manly 
virtues is the Chevalier La Come,” replied Amelie. 

“ Well, I won’t pull down your idol then ! I respect 
the brave old soldier, too ; but could wish him with the 
army in Flanders 1 ” 

“ Thousands of estimable people augur ill from the ac- 
cession of the Intendant Bigot in new France, besides the 
Chevalier La Come,” Amelie said after a pause. She dis- 
liked censuring even the Intendant. 

“Yes,” replied Angelique, “ the Honnetes gens do, who 
think themselves bound to oppose the Intendant, be- 
cause he uses the royal authority in a regal way, and makes 
every one, high and low, do their devoir to Church and 
State.” 

“ While he does his devoir to none I But I am no pol- 
itician, Angelique. But when so many good people call 
the Intendant a bad man, it behoves one to be circum- 
spect in ‘ cultivating him,’ as you call it.” 

“Well he is rich enough to pay for all the broken 
pots 1 They say he amassed untold wealth in Acadia, 
Amelie 1” 

“ And lost the Province for the king I ” retorted Ame- 


30 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


lie with all the asperity her gentle but patriotic spirit was 
capable of. ‘‘ Some say he sold the country.’* 

I don’t care ! ” replied the reckless beauty ; “ he is 
like Joseph in Egypt, next to Pharoah in authority. He can 
shoe his horses with gold 1 I wish he would shoe me with 
golden slippers — I would wear them, Amelie ! ” 

Angelique stamped her dainty foot upon the ground, as 
if in fancy she already had them on. 

‘‘ It is shocking if you mean it ! ” remarked Amelie 
pityingly, for she felt Angelique was speaking her genuine 
thoughts. “ But is it true that the Intendant is really 
as dissolute as rumor says ? ” 

“ I don’t care if it be true, he is noble gallant, polite, 
rich, and all-powerful at Court. He is reported to be prime 
favorite of the Marquise de Pompadour. What more do I 
want ? ” replied Angelique warmly. 

Amelie knew enough by report of the French Count to 
cause her to shrink instinctively as from a repulsive insect, 
at the name of the mistress of Louis XV. She trembled 
at the thought of Angelique’s infatuation, or perversity in 
suffering herself to be attracted by the glitter of the vices 
of the royal Intendant. 

“ Angelique ! ” exclaimed she, ‘‘ I have heard things of 
the Intendant, that would make me tremble for you, were 
you in earnest.” 

“ But I am in earnest ! I mean to win and wear the In- 
tendant of New France, to show my superiority over the 
whole bevy of beauties competing for his hand. There 
is not a girl in Quebec but would run away with him to- 
morrow.” 

“ Fie, Angelique ! such a libel upon our sex ! You know 
better. But you cannot love him } ” 

‘‘Love him.^ No!” Angelique repeated the denial 
scornfully. “ Love him 1 I never thought of love and him 
together ! He is not handsome, like youn brother, Le 
Gardeur, who is my beau ideal of a man I could love ; 
nor has he the intellect and nobility of Colonel Philibert, who 
is my model of a heroic man. I could love such men as 
them. But my ambition would not be content with less 
than a Governor or Royal Intendant in New France. In 
old France, I would not put up with less than the king 
himself ! ” 

Angelique laughed at her own extravagance, but she 


CONFIDENCES. 


31 

believed in it all the same. Amelie, though shocked at her 
wildness, could not help smiling at her folly. 

Have you done raving ? ’’ said she ; ‘‘ I have no right 
to question your selection of a lover or doubt your power, 
Angelique. But are you sure there exists no insurmount- 
able obstacle to oppose these high aspirations 1 It is whis- 
pered that the Intendant has a wife, whom he keeps in the 
seclusion of Beaumanoir. Is that true ? 

The words burnt like fire. Angeflique’s eyes flashed 
out daggers. She clenched her delicate hands until her 
nails drew blood from her velvet palms. Her frame quiv- 
ered with suppressed passion. She grasped her companion 
fiercely by the arm, exclaiming : “ You have hit the secret 
now, Amelie ! It was to speak of that I sought you out 
this morning, for I know you are wise, discreet, and 
every way better than I. It is all true what I have said 
and more too, Amelie. Listen ! The Intendant has made 
love to me with pointed gallantry that could have no other 
meaning but that he honorably sought my hand. He has 
made me talked of, and hated by my own sex, who envied his 
preference of me. I was living in the most gorgeous of fool’s 
paradises, when a bird brought to my ear the astounding 
news, that a woman, beautiful as Diana, had been found in 
the forest of Beaumanoir, by some Hurons of Lorette, who 
were out hunting with the Intendant. She was accom- 
panied by a few Indians of a strange tribe, the Aben- 
aquais of Acadia. The woman was utterly exhausted by 
fatigue, and lay asleep on a couch of dry leaves under a 
tree, when the astonished Hurons led the Intendant to the 
spot where she lay. 

Don’t interrupt me, Amelie, I see you are amazed, 
but let me go on ? ” She held the hands of her companion 
firmly in her lap as she proceeded : — 

“ The Intendant was startled out of all composure at 
the apparition of the sleeping lady. He spoke eagerly to 
the Abenaquais in their own tongue which was unintelligi- 
ble to the Hurons. When he had listened to a few words 
of their explanation, he ran hastily to the lady, kissed 
her, called her by name, ‘ Caroline !’ She woke up sudden- 
ly, and, recognizing the Intendant, embraced him, crying 
‘ Francois ! FranQois ! ’ and fainted in his arms. 

“ The Chevalier was profoundly agitated, blessing and 
banning in the same breath, the fortune that had led her 


32 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


to him. He gave her wine, restored her to consciousness, 
talked with her long and sometimes angrily ; but to no 
avail, for the woman in accents of despair, exclaimed in 
French, which the Hurons understood, that the Intendant 
might kill and bury her there, but she would never, never 
return home any more.’’ 

Angelique scarcely took breath as she continued her 
eager recital. 

‘‘ The Intendant, overpowered, either by love of her or 
fear of her, ceased his remonstrances. He gave some pieces 
of gold to the Abenaquais, and dismissed them. The 
strange Indians kissed her on both hands as they would a 
queen, and with many adieus vanished into the forest. 
The lady, attended by Bigot, remained seated under the 
tree till nightfall when he conducted her secretly to the 
Chateau, where she still remains in perfect seclusion in a 
secret chamber they say, and has been seen by none save 
one or two of the Intendant’s most intimate companions.” 

‘‘ Heavens ! what, a tale of romance ! How learned 
you all this Angelique ? ” exclaimed Amelie, who had 
listened with breathless attention to the narrative. 

“ Oh, partly from a hint from a Huron girl, and the rest 
from the Intendant’s Secretary. Men cannot keep secrets 
that women are interested in knowing ! I could make De 
Pean talk the Intendant’s head off his shoulders, if I had 
him an hour in my confessional. But all my ingenuity could 
not extract from him what he did not know. Who that 
mysterious lady is, her name, and family ? ” 

“Could the Huron hunters give no guess.?” asked 
Amelie -thoroughly interested in Angelique’s story. 

“ No. They learned by signs, however, from the Aben- 
aquais, that she was a lady of noble family in Acadia, 
which had mingled its patrician blood with that of the na- 
tive chiefs and possessors of the soil. The Abenaquais 
were chary of their information, however, they would only 
say she was a great white lady and as good as any saint in 
the calendar.” 

“ I would give five years of my life to know who and 
what that woman is ! ” Angelique added, as she leaned over 
the parapet gazing intently at the great forest that lay 
beyond Charlebourg, in which was concealed the Chteau 
of Beaumanoir.” 

“ It is a strange mystery. But I would not seek to un- 


CONFIDENCES. 


33 


ravel it, Angelique,” remarked Ame'lie, “ I feel there is sm 
in it. Do not touch it ! It will only bring mischief upon 
you if you do ! 

‘‘ Mischief ! So be it ! *But I will know the worst ! 
The Intendant is deceiving me ! Woe be to him and her 
if I am to be their intended victim ! Will you not assist 
me, Amelie, to discover the truth of this secret ?” 

I ? how can I ? I pity you Angelique, but it were 
better to leave this Intendant to his own devices.’’ 

“ You can very easily help me if you will. Le Gardeur 
must know this secret. He must have seen the woman — but 
he is angry with me, for — for — slighting him — as he thinks 
— but he was wrong. I could not avow to him my jealousy 
in this matter. He told me just enough to madden me, 
and angrily refused to tell the rest when he saw me so im 
fatuated — he called it, over other people’s love affairs. Oh, 
Amelie, Le Gardeur will tell you all if you ask him ! ” 

“ And I repeat it to you, Angelique, I cannot question 
Le Gardeur on such a hateful topic. At any rate I need 
time to reflect and will pray to be .guided right. ” 

Oh, pray not at all ! If you pray you will never aid 
me ! I know you will say the end is wicked and the means 
dishonorable. But find out I will — and speedily ! It will 
only be the price of another dance with the Chevalier de 
Pean, to discover all I want. What fools men are when they 
believe we love them for their sakes, and not for our own ! ” 

Amelie pitying the wild humors, as she regarded them, 
of her old school companion — took her arm to walk to and 
fro in the bastion — but was not sorry to see her Aunt and 
the Bishop and Father De Berey approaching. 

‘‘ Quick,” said she to Angelique, “ smooth your hair and 
compose your looks. Here come my Aunt and the Bishop 
— Father De Berey too ! Sad thoughts are ever banished 
where he comes, although I don’t admire quite so much 
gayety in a priest. ” 

Angelique prepared at once to meet them ; and with 
her w'onderful power of adaptation transformed herself in 
a moment into a merry creature all light and gayety. She 
saluted the Lady de Tilly and the reverend Bishop in the 
frankest manner — and at once accepted an interchange of 
wit and laughter with Father De Berey. Her voice, so clear 
and silvery, would have put the wisdom of Solomon at fault to 
discover one trace of care on the mind of this beautiful girl. 

3 


34 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ She could not remain long, however, in the Church’s 
company,” she said, “ she had her morning calls to finish.” 
She kissed the cheek of Amelie and the hand of the Lady 
DeTilly, and with a coquettish courtesy to the gentlemen, 
leaped nimbly into her caleche, whirled round her spirited 
horses like a practiced charioteer, and drove with rapid 
pace down the crowded street of St. John, the observed 
of all observers, the admiration of the men, and the 
envy of the women as she flashed by. 

Amelie and the Lady De Tilly having seen a plenteous 
meal distributed among their people, proceeded to their 
city home — their seigneurial residence, when they chose to 
live in the capital. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE ITINERANT NOTARY. 

Master Jean LeNocher, the sturdy ferryman’s pati- 
ence had been severely tried for a few days back, passing 
the troops of habitans over the St. Charles to the city of 
Quebec. Being on the King’s corvte they claimed the privi- 
lege of all persons in the Royal service. They travelled 
toll-free, and paid Jean with a nod or a jest in place of 
the small coin which that worthy used to exact on ordinary 
occasions. 

This morning had begun auspiciously for Jean’s tem- 
per, however. A king’s officer on a grey charger, had just 
crossed the ferry; and without claiming the exemption from 
toll which was the right of all wearing the king’s uniform, 
the officer had paid Jean more than his fee in solid coin, 
and rode on his way after a few kind words to the ferry- 
man and a polite salute to his wife Babet, who stood cour- 
tesying at the door of their cottage. 

“ A noble gentleman that, and a real one ! ” exclaimed 
Jean to his buxom pretty wife, ‘‘and as generous as a 
prince ! See what he has given me.” Jean flipped up a 
piece of silver admiringly and then threw it into the apron 
of Babet which she spread out to catch it. 

Babet rubbed the silver piece caressingly between her 
fingers and upon her cheek. “ It is easy to see that hand- 


THE ITINERANT NOTARY. 


35 


some officer is from the Castle/’ said Babet, and not from 
the Palace — and so nice looking he is, too, with such a 
sparkle in his eye and a pleasant smile on his mouth. He 
is as good as he looks or I am no judge of men.” 

“ And you are an excellent judge of men, I know, 
Babet,” he replied, or you would never have taken me ! ” 
Jean chuckled richly over his own wit, which Babet nodded 
lively approval to. ‘‘ Yes, I know a hawk from a hand- 
saw, ” replied Babet, “ and a woman who is as wise as that 
will never mistake a gentleman, Jean ! I have not seen a 
handsomer officer than that in seven years ! ” 

“ He is a pretty fellow enough, I dare say, Babet, who 
can he be ? He rides like a Field Marshal too, and that 
grey horse has ginger in his heels ! ” remarked Jean, as the 
officer was riding at a rapid gallop up the long white road 
of Charlebourg. “ He is going to Beaumanoir belike to see 
the Royal Intendant, who has not returned yet from his 
hunting party.” 

“ Whither they went three days ago, to enjoy them- 
selves in the chase and drink themselves blind in the 
chateau, while every body else is summoned to the city to 
work upon the walls ! ” replied Babet, scornfully. “I’ll be 
bound that officer has gone to order the gay gallants of 
the Friponne back to the city to take their share of work 
with honest people.” 

“ Ah ! the Friponne ! The Friponne ! ” ejaculated Jean. 
“The foul fiend fly away with the Friponne! My ferry 
boat is laden every day with the curses of the habitans re- 
turning from the Friponne, where they cheat worse than a 
Basque peddler, and without a grain of his politeness ! ” 

The Friponne, as it was styled in popular parlance was 
the immense magazine established by the Grand Com- 
pany of traders in New France. It claimed a monopoly 
in the purchase and sale of all imports and exports in the 
colony. Its privileges were based upon royal ordinances 
and decrees of the Intendant and its rights enforced in the 
most arbitrary manner — and to the prejudice of every othei 
mercantile interest in the colony. As a natural conse- 
quence it was cordially hated, and richly deserved the 
maledictions which generally accompanied the mention of 
the Friponne — the swindle — a rough and ready epithet 
which sufficiently indicated the feeling of the people whom 
it at once cheated and oppressed. 


3 ^ 


THE CHIEN H UR. 


They say, Jean,’’ — continued Babet, her mind running 
in a very practical and womanly way upon the price of 
commodities, and good bargains — ‘‘ they say, Jean, that the 
Bourgeois Philibert will not give in like the other mer- 
chants. He sets the Intendant at defiance and continues 
to buy and sell in his own comptoir as he has always done 
in spite of the Friponne.” 

“Yes, Babet ! that is what they say. But I would 
rather he stood in his own shoes, than I in them if he is 
to fight this Intendant — who is a Tartar they say.” 

“ Pshaw, Jean ! you have less courage than a woman. 
All the women are on the side of the good Bourgeois ! He 
is an honest merchant — sells cheap and cheats nobody.” 
Babet looked down very complacently upon her new gown, 
which had been purchased at a great bargain at the Maga- 
zine of the Bourgeois. She felt rather the more inclined to 
take this view of the question inasmuch as Jean had 
grumbled, just a little — he would not do more — at his wife’s 
vanity in buying a gay dress of French fabric, like a city 
Dame — while all the women of the parish were wearing 
homespun, — ^grogram, or linsey-woolsey — whether at church 
or market. 

Jean had not the heart to say another word to Babet 
about the French gown. In truth he thought she looked 
very pretty in it, better than in grogram or in linsey-wool- 
sey, although at double the cost. He only winked know'- 
ingly at Babet, and went on to speaking of the Bourgeois. 

“ They say the king has long hands, but this Intendant 
has claws longer than Satan. There will be trouble by 
and by at the Golden Dog — mark that, Babet ! It was 
only the other day the Intendant was conversing with the 
Sieur Cadet as they crossed the ferry. They forgot me, 
or thought I did not hear them ; but I had my ears open, 
as I always have. I heard something said and I hope no 
harm will come to the good Bourgeois, that is all ! ” 

“ I don’t know wFere Christian folk would deal if any- 
thing happened him,” said Babet reflectively. “We always 
get civility and good pennyworths at the Golden Dog. 
Some of the lying cheats of the Friponne talked in my 
hearing one day about his being a Huguenot. But how can 
that be, Jean ? When he gives the best weight and the long- 
est measure of any merchant in Quebec Religion is a just 
yard wand, that is my belief, Jean! ” 


THE ITINERANT NOTARY. 


37 


Jean rubbed his head with a perplexed air — I do not 
know whether he be a Huguenot — nor what a Huguenot is. 
The Cure one day said, he was a Jansenist on all fours, 
which I Oppose is the same thing Babet — and it does not 
concern either you or me. But a merchant who is a gen- 
tleman, and kind to poor folk, and gives just measure and 
honest weight, speaks truth and harms nobody, is Christian 
enough for me. A Bishop could not trade more honestly ; 
and the word of the Bourgeois is as reliable as a king’s.’’ 

‘‘ The Cure may call the Bourgeois what he likes,” re- 
plied Babet, ‘‘ but there is not another Christian in the city 
if the good bourgeois be not one ; and next the church 
there is not a house in Quebec better known or better liked 
by all the habitants, than the Golden Dog ; and such bar- 
gains, too, as one gets there ! ” 

“ Aye, Babet ! a good bargain settles many a knotty 
point with a woman.” 

‘‘ And with a man too,, if he is wise enough to let his 
wife do his marketing as you do, Jean ! But who have we 
here ? ” Babet set her arms a kimbo and gazed. 

A number of hardy fellows came down towards the ferry 
to seek a passage. 

‘‘ They are honest habitans of St. Annes,” replied Jean. 

I know them, they, too, are on the king’s corvee, and 
travel free, every man of them ! So I must cry vive Le Roi I 
and pass them over to the city. It is like a holiday when 
one works for nothing ! ” 

Jean stepped nimbly into his boat, followed by the 
rough country fellows, who amused themselves by joking 
at Jean Le Nocher’s increasing trade, and the need of 
putting on an extra boat these stirring times. Jean put a 
good face upon it, laughed and retorted their quips, and, 
plying his oars, stoutly performed his part in the king’s 
corvee by safely landing them on the other shore. 

Meantime the officer who had lately crossed the ferry 
rode rapidly up the long, straight highway that led upon the 
side of the mountain to a cluster of white cottages, and an 
old church, surmounted by a belfry whose sweet bells were 
ringing melodiously in the fresh air of the morning. 

The sun was pouring a flood of golden light over the land- 
scape. The still glittering dew drops hung upon the trees, 
shrubs, and long points of grass by the way-side. All were 
dressed with jewels to greet the rising king of day. 


38 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


The wide, open fields of meadow, and corn fields, ripen- 
ing for harvest, stretched far away, unbroken by hedge or 
fence. Slight ditches or banks of turf, covered ^ith nests 
of violets, ferns and wild flowers of every hue, separated 
contiguous fields. No other division seemed necessary in 
the mutual good neighborhood that prevailed among the 
colonists, whose fashion of agriculture had been brought, 
with many hardy virtues, from the old plains of Normandy. 

White walled, red roofed cottages, or more substantial 
farm houses, stood conspicuously in the green fields or 
peered out of embowering orchards. Their casements were 
open to catch the balmy air, while in not a few the sound 
of clattering hoofs on the hard road drew fair faces to the 
window or door, to look inquisitively after the officer 
wearing the white plume in his military chapeau, as he dash- 
ed by on the gallant grey. 

Those who caught sight of him saw a man worth see- 
ing — tall, deep chested, and erect. His Norman features 
without being perfect were handsome and manly. Steel 
blue eyes, solidly set under a broad forehead, looked out 
searchingly yet kindly, while his well formed chin and firm 
lips gave an air of resolution to his whole look that accord- 
ed perfectly with the brave loyal character of Colonel Phil- 
ibert. He wore the royal uniform. Plis auburn hair he 
wore tied with a black ribbon. His good taste discarded 
perukes and powder although very much in fashion in 
those days. 

It was long since he had travelled on the highway of 
Charlebourg, and thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of the 
road he traversed. But behind him, as he knew, lay a mag- 
nificent spectacle, the sight of the great promontory of 
Quebec, crowned with its glorious fortifications and replete 
with the proudest memories of North America. More than 
once the young soldier turned his steed and halted a mo- 
ment or two to survey the scene with enthusiastic admira- 
tion. It was his native city, and the thought that it was 
threatened by the national enemy roused like an insult 
offered to the mother that bore him. He rode onward 
more than ever impatient of delay, and not till he jDassed 
a cluster of elm trees which reminded him of an adventure 
of his youth, did the sudden heat pass away, caused by the 
thought of the threatened invasion. 

Under these trees he remembered that he, and his 


THE ITINERANT NOTARY, 


39 


school companion Le Gardeur de Repentigny had once 
taken refuge during a violent storm. The tree they stood 
under was shattered by a thunderbolt. They were both 
stunned for a few minutes, and knew they had had a nar- 
row escape from death. Neither of them ever forgot it. 

A train of thoughts, never long absent from the mind of 
Philibert, started up vividly at the sight of these trees. 
His memory flew back to Le Gardeur and the Manor house 
of Tilly, and the fair young girl who captivated his boyish 
fancy, and filled his youth with dreams of glorious achieve- 
ments, to win her smiles and do her honor. Among a 
thousand pictures of her hung up in his mind and secret- 
ly worshipped, he loved that which presented her likeness 
on that day when he saved her brother’s life, and she kiss- 
ed him in a passion of joy and gratitude, vowing she would 
pray for him to the end of her life. 

The imagination of Pierre Philibert had revelled in the 
romantic visions that haunt every boy destined to promin- 
ence. Visions kindled by the eye of woman and the hope 
of love. 

The world is ruled by such dreams, dreams of impas- 
sioned hearts, and improvisations of warm lips, not by cold 
words linked in chains of iron sequence, by love, not by 
logic. The heart with its passions, not the understanding 
with its reasoning, sway, in the long run, the actions of 
mankind. 

Pierre Philibert possessed that rich gift of nature, a 
creative imagination, in addition to the solid judgment of a 
man of sense, schooled by experience and used to the 
considerations and responsibilities of weighty affairs. 

His love for Amelie de Repentigny had grown in secret. 
Its roots reached down to the very depths of his being. It 
mingled consciously or unconsciously with all his motives 
and plans of life, and yet his hopes were not sanguine. 
Years of absence, he remembered, work forgetfulness. 
New ties and associations might have wiped out the mem- 
ory of him in the mind of a young girl fresh to society and 
its delights. He experienced a disappointment in not 
finding her in the city upon his return a few days ago, and 
the state of the colony and the stress of military duty had 
so far prevented his renewing his acquaintance with the 
Manor house of Tilly. 

The old fashioned hostelry of the Coiiromie de France 


40 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


with its high pitched roof, pointed gables, and broad gal- 
lery stood directly opposite the rustic church and tall belfry 
of -Charlebourg, not as a rival, but as a sort of adjunct to 
the sacred edifice. The sign of the crown, bright with 
gilding, swung from the low, projecting arm of a maple 
tree, thick with shade and rustling with the beautiful leaves 
of the emblem of Canada. A few rustic seats under the 
cool maple were usually occupied, toward the close of the 
day, or about the ringing of the Angelus, by a little gather- 
ing of parishioners from the village, talking over the news 
of the day, the progress of the war, the ordinances of the 
Intendant, or the exactions of the Friponne. 

On Sundays, after Mass and Vespers, the hahitaiis of 
all parts of the extended parish naturally met and talked 
over the affairs of the Fabrique. The value of tithes for 
the year, the abundance of Easter eggs, and the weight of 
the first salmon of the season, which was always presented 
to the Cure with the hrst fruits of the field, to ensure the 
blessing of plenty for the rest of the year. 

The Reverend Cure frequently mingled in these dis- 
cussions. Seated in his accustomed arm chair, under the 
shade of the maple in summer, and in winter by the warm 
fireside, he defended, ex cathedra^ the rights of the church, 
and good-humoredly decided all controversies. He found 
his parishioners more amenable to good advice over a mug 
of Norman cider and a pipe of native tobacco, under the 
sign of the crown of France, than when he lectured them 
in his best and most learned style from the pulpit. 

This morning, however, all was very quiet round the 
old Inn. The birds were singing and the bees humming 
in the pleasant sunshine. The house looked clean and 
tidy, and no one was to be seen except three persons bend- 
ing over a table, with their heads close together deeply ab- 
sorbed in whatever business they were engaged in. Two 
of these persons were Dame Bedard, the sharp landlady 
of the Crown of France, and her no less sharp and pretty 
daughter, Zoe. The third person of the trio was an old 
alert looking little man writing at the table as if for very 
life. He wore a tattered black robe, shortened at the knee, 
to facilitate walking, a frizzled wig looking as if it had 
been dressed with a curry comb, a pair of black breeches, 
well patched with various colors, and gamaches of brown 
leather, such as the habitans wore, completed his odd at- 


■THE ITINERANT NOTARY, 


41 


tire, and formed the professional costume of Master Po- 
thier dit Robin, the travelling Notary, one of that not un- 
useful order of itinerants of the law, which flourished un- 
der the old regime in New France. 

Upon the table near him stood a black bottle, an empty 
trencher and a thick scatter of crumbs, showing that the 
old notary had despatched a hearty breakfast before com- 
mencing his present work of the pen. 

A hairy knapsack lay open upon the table near his elbow, 
disclosing some bundles of dirty papers tied up with red 
tape ; a tattered volume or two of the Coutii7ne de Haris, 
and little more than the covers of an odd tome of Pothier', 
his great namesake and prime authority in the law. Some 
linen, dirty and ragged as his law papers, was crammed 
into his knapsack’ with them. But that was neither here 
nor there in the estimation of the habitans, so long as his 
law smelt strong in the nostrils of their opponents in liti- 
gation. They rather prided themselves upon the roughness 
of their travelling notary. 

The reputation of Master Pothier dit Robin was, of 
course, very great among the habitans, as he travelled 
from parish to parish, and from Seigneurie to Seigneurie, 
drawing bills and hypothecations, marriage contracts and 
last wills and testaments for the peasantry, who had a gen- 
uine Norman predilection for law and chicanery, and a re- 
spect amounting to veneration for written documents, red 
tape and sealing wax. Master Pothier’s acuteness in pick- 
ing holes in the actes of a rival notary was only surpassed 
by the elaborate intricacy of his own, which he boasted, 
not without reason, would puzzle the parliament of Paris 
and confound the ingenuity -of the sharpest advocates of 
Rouen. Master Pothier’s actes were as full of embryo dis- 
putes as a fig is full of seeds, and usually kept all parties 
in hot water and litigation for the rest of their days. If he * 
did happen now, and then to settle a dispute between neigh- 
bor’s he made ample amends for it by setting half the rest 
of the parish by the ears. 

Master Pothier’s nose, sharp and fiery as if dipped in red 
ink, almost touched the sheet of paper on the table before 
him, as he wrote down from the dictation of Dame Bedard 
the articles of a marriage contract between her pretty 
daughter, Zoe, and Antoine La Chance, the son of a com- 
fortable but keen widow of Beauport. 


42 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


Dame Bedard had shrewdly availed herself of the pres- 
ence of Master Pothier, and in payment of a night’s lodg- 
ing, at the Crown of France, to have him write out the 
contract of marriage in the absence of Dame La Chance, 
the mother of Antoine, who would of course object to the 
insertion of certain condidons in the contract which Dame 
Bedard was quite determined upon as the price of Zoe’s 
hand and fortune. 

‘‘ There ! Dame Bedard ! ” cried Master Pothier, stick- 
ing the pen behind his ear, after a magnificent flourish at 
the last word, ‘‘ there is a marriage contract fit to espouse 
King Solomon to the Queen of Sheba ! A dowry of a hun- 
dred livres tournoises, two cows, and a feather bed, bed- 
stead, and chest of linen ! A donation entre vifs ! ” 

“ A what ^ Master Pothier, now mind ! are you sure 
that is the right word of the grimoire ? ” cried Dame Be- 
dard, instinctively perceiving- that here lay the very point 
of the contract. “ You know I only give on condition, 
Master Pothier.” 

“ O yes ! trust me. Dame Be'dard. I have made it a 
donation entre vifs, revocable par cause d' ingratitude, if your 
future son-in-law, Antoine La Chance, should fail in his duty 
to you and to Zoe.” 

‘‘And he won’t do his duty to Zoe, unless he does it to 
me. Master Pothier. But are you sure it is strong enough. 
Will it hold Dame La Chance by the foot so that she can- 
not revoke her gifts although I may revoke mine ? ” 

“ Hold Dame La Chance by the foot ? It will hold her 
as fast as a snapping turtle does a frog. In proof of it 
see what Ricard says : page 970. Here is the book.” 
Master Pothier opened his tattered volume and held it up 
to the Qame. She shook her head. 

“ Thanks, I have mislaid my glasses. Do you read, 
‘please ! ” 

“ Most cheerfully, good Dame ! A notary must have 
eyes for everybody — eyes like a cat’s to see in the dark, 
and power to draw them in like a turtle, so that he may see 
nothing that he does not want to see.” 

“ Oh, bless the eyes of the Notary ! ” Dame Bedard 
grew impatient. “ Tell me what the book says about gifts 
revocable — that is what concerns me and Zoe.” 

“ Well here it is. Dame. ‘ Donations stipulated revoca- 
ble at the pleasure of the donor are null. But this condition 


THE ITIAERANT NOTARY. 


43 

does not apply to donations by contract of marriage,’ 
Bourdon also says — ’’ 

A fig for Bourdon, and all such drones ! I want my 
gift made revocable. Dame La Chance's is not ! I know by 
long experience, with my dear feu Bedard, how necessary it 
is to hold the reins tight with the men. Antoine is a good 
boy, but he will be all the better for a careful mother-in- 
law’s supervision ? ” 

Master Pothier rubbed the top of his wig with his fore- 
finger. 

“Are you sure. Dame, that Antoine La Chance will 
wear the bridle easily ? ” 

Assuredly ! I should like to see son-in-law of mine 
who would not ! Besides, Antoine is in the humor just 
now to refuse nothing for sake of Zoe. Have you men- 
tioned the children. Master Pothier } I do not intend to 
let Dame La Chance control the children any more than 
Zoe and Antoine.” 

“ I have made you tictrice perpetuelle., as we say in the 
court, and here it is,” said he placing the tip of his fin- 
ger on a certain line in the document. 

Zoe looked down and blushed to her finger ends. She 
presently rallied and said with some spirit — “ Never 
mind them., Master Pothier ! Don’t put them in the con- 
tract ! Let Antoine have 'something to say about them. 
He would take me without a dower, I know, and time 
enough to remind him about children when they come.” 

“ Take you without dower ! Zoe Bedard ! you must be 
mad ! ” exclaimed the Dame, in great heat. “ No girl in 
New France can marry without a dower, if it be only a pot 
and a bedstead ! You forget too that the dower is given 
not so much for you, as to keep up the credit of the family. 
As well be married without a ring ! Without a dower, in- 
deed ! ” 

“ Or without a contract written by a notary, signed, 
sealed and delivered ! ” chimed in Master Pothier. 

“ Yes, Master Pothier, and I have promised Zoe a three 
days’ wedding, which will make her the envy of all the 
parish of Charlebourg. The Seigneur has consented to 
give her away in place of her poor defunct father ; and 
when he does that, he is sure to stand god-father for all 
the children, with a present for every one of them ! I 
shall invite you too, Master Pothier ! ” 


44 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


Zoe affected not to hear her mother’s remark, although 
she knew it all by heart, for it had been dinned into her 
ears twenty times a day for weeks, and sooth to say, she 
liked to hear it, and fully appreciated the honors to^come 
from the patronage of the Seigneur. 

Master Tothier pricked up his ears, till they fairly 
raised his wig, at the prospect of a three days’ wedding at 
the Crown of France. He began an elaborate reply, when 
a horse’s tramp broke in upon them, and Colonel Philibert 
wheeled up to the door of the hostelry. 

Master Pothier, seeing an officer in the king’s uniform, 
rose on the instant and saluted him with a profound bow, 
while Dame Bedard and Zoe, standing side by side, drop- 
ped their lowest courtsey to the handsome gentleman, as, 
with woman’s glance, they saw in a moment he was. 

Philibert returned their salute courteously, as he halted 
his horse in front of Dame Bedard. ‘‘ Madame ! ” said 
he, “ I thought I knew all roads about Charlebourg, but I 
have either forgotten or* they have changed the road 
through the forest to Beaumanoir. It is surely altered 
from what it was.” 

‘‘Your honor is right,” answered Dame Bedard, “the 
Intendant has opened a new road through the forest.” Zoe 
took the opportunity, while the officer looked at her mother, 
to examine his features, dress and equipments, from head 
to foot, and thought him the handsomest officer she had 
ever seen. 

“ I thought it must be so,” replied Philibert, “ you are 
the landlady of the Crown of France, I presume ” Dame 
Bedard carried it on her face as plainly marked as the 
royal emblem on the sign over her head. 

“ Yes, your honor, I am widow Bedard at your service, 
and, I hope, keep as good a hostelry as your honor will find 
in the Colony. Will your honor alight and take a cup of 
wine, such as I keep for guests of quality ” 

“Thanks, Madame Bedard, I am in haste ; I must find 
the way to Beaumanoir. Can you not furnish me a 
guide, for I like not to lose time by missing my way 1 ” 

“ A guide. Sir ! The men are all in the city on the 
king’s corvee; Zoe could show you the way easily enough.” 
Zoe twitched her mother’s arm nervously, as a hint not to 
say too much. She felt flattered and fluttered too at the 
thought of guiding the strange handsome gentleman 


THE ITINERANT NOTARY. 


45 


through the forest, and already the question shot through 
her fanc}^, “ what might come of it ? Such things have 
happened in stories ! ” Poor Zoe ! she was for a few sec- 
onds unfaithful to the memory of Antoine La Chance. 
But Dame Bedard settled all surmises by turning to Mas- 
ter Pothier who stood stiff and upright as became a limb 
of the law. ‘‘ Here is Master Pothier, your honor, who 
knows every highway and byway in ten seigneuries. He 
will guide your honor to Beaumanoir.’^ 

“ As easy as take a fee or enter a process, your honor,” 
remarked Master Pothier, whose odd figure had several 
times drawn the criticizing eyfe of Colonel Philibert. 

“A fee ! ah ! you belong to the law then, my good 
friend? I have known many advocates, — ” but Philibert 
stopped ; he was too good natured to finish his sentence. 

“ You never saw one like me ? your honor was going 
to say. True you never did. I am Master Pothier, dit 
Robin, the poor travelling notary at your 'honor’s service, 
ready to draw you a bond, frame an acte of convention 7nat- 
rwioniale or v/rite your last will and testament with any 
Notary in New France. I can, moreover, guide your hon- 
or to Beaumanoir as easy as drink your health in a cup of 
Cognac.” 

Philibert could not but smile at the travelling notary, 
and thinking to himself “ too much Cognac at the end of 
that nose of yours, my friend ! ” and which indeed looked 
fiery as Bardolph’s, with hardly a spot for a fly to rest his 
foot upon without burning. 

“ But how will you go friend ? ” asked Philibert, look- 
ing down at Master Pothier’s gamaches ; “ you don’t look 
like a fast walker ? ” 

“ Oh, your honor,” interrupted Dame Bedard, impatient- 
ly, for Zoe had been twitching her hard to let her go. 
“ Master Pothier can ride the old sorrel nag, that stands in 
the stable eating its head off for want of hire. Of course 
your honor will pay livery ? ” 

Why, certainly, Madame, and glad to do so. So Mas- 
ter Pothier make haste, get the sorrel nag, and let us be 
off.” 

‘‘ I will be back in the snap of a pen, or in the time 
Dame Bedard ca'n draw that cup of Cognac, your honor.” 

“ Master Pothier is quite a personage I see,” remarked 
Philibert, as the old notary shuffled off to saddle the nag. 


46 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


Oh, quite, your Honor. He is the sharpest notary 
they say that travels the road. When he gets people into 
law they never can get out. He is so clever everybody 
says ! Why, he assures me that even the Intendant con- 
sults him sometimes as they sit eating and drinking half 
the night together in the buttery at the Chtoau ! ’’ 

Really ! I must be careful what I say,” replied Phili- 
bert, laughing, ‘‘ or I shall get into hot water ! But here 
he comes.” 

As he spoke, Master Pothier came up, mounted on a 
raw boned nag, lank as the remains of a twenty year’s law 
suit. Zoe, at a hint from the Colonel, handed him a cup 
of Cognac, which he quaffed without breathing, smacking 
his lips emphatically after it ; he called out to the landlady, 
‘‘Take care of my knapsack. Dame ! You had better burn 
the house than lose my papers ! Adieu, Zoe ! study over 
the marriage contract till I return, and I shall be sure of 
a good dinner from your pretty hands.” 

They set off at a round trot. Colonel Philibert, impa- 
tient to reach Beaumanoir, spurred on for a while, hardly 
noticing the absurd figure of his guide, whose legs stuck 
out like a pair of compasses beneath his tattered gown. 
His shaking head threatening dislodgment to hat and wig, 
while his elbows churned at every jolt, making play with 
the shuffling gait of his spavined and wall-eyed nag. 


CHAPTER VI. 

BEAUMANOIR. 

They rode on in silence. A little beyond the village 
of Charlebourg they suddenly turned into the forest of Beau- 
manoir, where a well-beaten track, practicable both for 
carriages and horses, gave indications that the resort of 
visitors to the Chateau was neither small nor seldom. 

The sun’s rays scarcely penetrated the sea of verdure 
overhead. The ground was thickly strewn with leaves, 
the memorials of past summers ; delicate ferns clustered 
round upturned roots of trees ; the pretty star-flowers, 
dark purple trilliums, and St. John’s wort nestled in sunny 


BEAUMANOIR. 


47 

spots, and the dark green pines breathed out a resinous 
odor, fresh and invigorating to the passing rider. 

A little brook peeped here and there shyly in the forest, 
as it wound through swales clothed in spiry grass. Its 
tiny banks, spotted with silvery anemones or tufts of ladies’ 
slippers, mingled with rosy bells of the Linnaeus Borealis. 

ColoneLPhilibert, while his thoughts were for the most 
part fixed on the public dangers which led to this hasty 
visit of his to the Chateau of Beaumanoir, had still an eye 
for the beauty of the forest, and not a squirrel leaped, nor 
a bird fluttering among the branches, escaped his notice as 
he passed by. Still he rode on rapidly, and having got 
fairly into the road, soon outstripped his guide. 

“ A crooked road this to Beaumanoir,” remarked he at 
length, drawing bridle to allow Master Pothier to rejoin 
him. It is as mazy as the law. I am fortunate, I am 
sure, in having a sharp notary like you to conduct me 
through it.” 

“ Conduct you ! Your Honor is leading me ! But the 
road to Beaumanoir is as intricate as the best case ever 
drawn up by an itinerant notary.” 

‘‘You seldom ride. Master Pothier?” said Philibert, 
observing his guide jolting with an audible grunt at every 
step of his awkward nag. 

“ Ride, your Honor ! N — no ! Dame Bedard shall 
call me plaisant Robin if she ever tempts me again to 
mount her livery horse — ‘ if fools only carried cruppers ! ’ 
as Panurge says.” 

“ Why, Master Pothier ? ” Philibert began to be amused 
at his odd guide. 

“ Why then I should be able to walk to-morrow — that 
is all ! This nag will finish me. Himc / hanc ! hoc ! He 
is fit to be Satan’s tutor at the Seminary! Hoc! hand 
hunc! I have not declined my pronouns since I left my Ac- 
cidence at the High School of Tours — not till to-day. Hunc! 
hanc ! hoc ! I shall be jolted to jelly 1 Hufic! hanc ! hoc !^^ 

Philibert laughed at the classical reminiscences of his 
guide ; but, fearing that Pothier might fall off his horse, 
which he straddled like a hay fork, he stopped to allow 
the worthy notary to recover his breath and temper. 

“ I hope the world appreciates your learning and talent, 
and that it uses you more gently than that horse of yours,’ 
remarked he. 


48 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ Oh, your Honor ! it ivS kind of you to rein up by the 
way. I find no fault with the world if it find none with 
me. My philosophy is this, that the world is as men 
make ifc.’^ 

“ As the old saying is : — 

* To lend, or to spend, or to give in, 

’Tis a very good world that we live in ; 

But to borrow, or beg, or get a man’s own, 

’Tis the very worst world that ever was known.’ 

And you consider yourself in the latter category, Master 
Pothier ? ” Philibert spoke doubtingly, for a more self- 
complacent face than his companion’s he never saw — every 
wrinkle trembled with mirth : eyes, cheeks, chin, and brows 
surrounded that jolly red nose of his like a group of gay 
boys round a bon-fire. 

‘‘ Oh, I am content, your Honor I We notaries are 
privileged to wear furred cloaks in the Palais de Justice, 
and black robes in the country when we can get them I 
— Look here at my robe of dignity I ” He held up the 
tattered tail of his gown with a ludicrous air.” The pro- 
fession of notary is meat, drink and lodging : every man’s 
house is free to me — his bed and board I share, and there 
is neither wedding, christening, nor funeral in ten parishes 
that can go on without me ; Governors and Intendants 
flourish and fall, but Jean Pothier dit Robin, the itinerant 
notary, lives merrily : men may do without bread, but they 
will not live without law — at least, in this noble litigious 
New France of ours.” 

“ Your profession seems quite indispensable then ! ” re- 
marked Philibert. 

“ Indispensable ! I should think so ! Without proper 
cates the world would soon come to an end, as did Adam’s 
happiness in Eden, for want of a notary.” 

“ A notary. Master Pothier ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, your Honor. It is clear that Adam lost his first 
estate de usis et fructibus in the Garden of Eden, simply 
because there was no notary to draw up for him an inde- 
feasable lease. Why, he had not even a bail ^ a chaptal (a 
chattel mortgage) over the beasts he had himself named ! ” 
Ah ! ” replied Philibert smiling, I thought Adam 
lost his estate through a cunning notary, who persuaded his 
wife to break the lease he held ; and poor Adam lost 


BEAUMANOIR. 


49 

possession because he could not find a second notary to 
defend his title.” 

“ Hum ! that might be ; but judgment went by default, 
as I have read. It would be different now. There are 
notaries in New France and Old, capable of beating Lucifer 
himself in a process for either soul, body, or estate ! But, 
thank fortune, we are out of this thick forest now.” 

The travellers had reached the other verge of the 
forest of Beaumanoir. A broad plain dotted with clumps 
of fair trees lay spread out in a royal domain, overlooked 
by a steep, wooded mountain. A silvery brook crossed by a 
rustic bridge ran through the park. In the centre was a 
huge cluster of gardens and patriarchal trees, out of the 
midst of which rose the steep roof, chimneys, and gilded 
vanes, flashing in the sun, of the Chateau of Beaumanoir. 

The Chateau was a long, heavy structure of stone, 
gabled and pointed in the style of the preceding century — 
strong enough for defence, and elegant enough for the 
abode of the Royal Intendant of New France. It had been 
built some four-score years previously, by the Intendant 
Jean Talon, as a quiet retreat when tired with the impor- 
tunities of friends or the persecution of enemies, or dis- 
gusted with the cold indifference of the Court to his 
statesmanlike plans for the colonization of New France. 
Here he loved to retire from the city, and, in the com- 
panionship of a few chosen friends, talk of the splendid 
literature of the age of Louis XIV., or discuss the new 
philosophy that was everywhere springing up in Europe. 

Within the walls of the Chteau of Beaumanoir had 
the Sieur Joliet recounted the story of his adventurous 
travels, and Father Marquette confirmed the vague rumors 
that had long circulated in the colony of a wonderful river 
called the ‘‘ Father of Waters,” that flowed southwards 
into the Gulf of Mexico. Here, too, had the gallant La 
Salle taken counsel of his friend and patron. Talon, when 
he set off to explore the great river Mississippi, seen by 
Joliet and Marquette, and claim it by right of discovery 
as the possession of France. 

A short distance from the Chateau rose a tower of 
rough masonry — crenellated on top and loop-holed on the 
sides — which had been built as a place of defence and 
refuge during the Indian wars of the preceding century. 
Often had the prowling bands of Iroquois turned away 

4 


THE CHIEN HOK. 


SO 

baffled and dismayed at the sight of the little fortalice sur- 
mounted by a culverin or two, which used to give the 
alarm of invasion to the colonists on the slopes of Bourg 
Royal, and to the dwellers along the wild banks of the 
Montmorency. 

The tower was now disused, and partly dilapidated, 
but many wonderful tales existed among the neighboring 
habitans of a secret passage that communicated with the 
vaults of the Chateau ; but no one had ever seen the pas- 
sage — still less been bold enough to explore it had they 
found it, for it was guarded by a Loup Garon that was the 
terror of children old and young, as they crowded close 
together round the blazing fire on winter nights, and 
repeated old legends of Brittany and Normandy, altered 
to fit the wild scenes of the New World. 

Colonel Philibert and Master Pothier rode up the broad 
avenue that led to the Chateau, and halted at the main 
gate — set in a lofty hedge of evergreens, cut into fantastic 
shapes, after the fashion of the Luxembourg. Within the 
gate a vast and glowing garden was seen — all squares, 
circles and polygons. The beds were laden with flowers 
shedding delicious odors on the morning air as it floated 
by, while the ear was soothed by the hum of bees and 
the songs of birds revelling in the bright sunshine. 

Above the hedge appeared the tops of heavily laden 
fruit trees, brought from France and planted by Talon : 
Cherries red as the lips of Breton maidens, plums of 
Gascony, Norman apples, with pears from the glcJVious 
valleys of the Rhone. The bending branches were just 
transmuting their green unripeness into scarlet, gold, and 
purple, the imperial colors of Nature when crowned for the 
festival of autumn. 

A lofty dove-cote, surmounted by a glittering vane, 
turning and flashing with every shift of the wind, stood near 
the Chtoau. It was the home of a whole colony of snow- 
white pigeons, which fluttered in and out of it, wheeled in 
circles round the tall chimney stacks, or strutted, cooing 
and bowing together, on the high roof of the Chateau, a 
picture of innocence and happiness. 

But neither happiness nor innocence was suggested by 
the look of the Chateau itself, as it stood bathed in bright 
sunshine. Its great doors were close shut in the face of 
all the beauty of the world without. Its mullioned windows, 


BEAUMANOIR. 


51 

that should have stood wide open to let in the radiance 
and freshness of morning, were closely blinded, like eyes 
wickedly shut against God’s light that beat upon them, 
vainly seeking entrance. 

Outside all was still, the song of birds and the rustle 
of leaves alone met the ear, neither man nor beast was 
stirring to challenge Colonel Philibert’s approach ; but 
long ere he reached the door of the Chateau, a din of voices 
within, a wild medley of shouts, song and laughter, a clatter 
of wine cups, and pealing notes of violins struck him with 
amazement and disgust. He distinguished drunken voices 
singing snatches of bacchanalian songs, while now and 
then stentorian mouths called for fresh brimmers and new 
toasts were drunk with uproarious applause. 

The Chateau seemed a very pandemonium of riot and 
revelry, that prolonged the night into the day, and defied 
the very order of nature by its audacious disregard of all 
decency of time, place and circumstance. 

‘‘ In God’s name, what means all this. Master Pothier ?” 
exclaimed Philibert, as they hastily dismounted, and tying 
their horses to a tree, entered the broad walk that led to 
the terrace. 

That concert going on, your honor T’ Master Pothier 
shook his head to express disapproval and smiled to ex- 
press his inborn sympathy with feasting and good fellow- 
ship. That, your honor, is the heel of the hunt, the 
hanging up of the antlers of the stag by the gay chasseurs 
who are visiting the Intendant.” 

“ A hunting party you mean ? To think that men could 
stand such brutishness, even to please the Intendant ! ” 

‘‘ Stand ! your honor. I wager my gown that most of 
the chasseurs are lying under the table by this time, although 
by the noise they make, it must be allowed there are some 
burly fellows upon their legs yet, who keep the wine flow- 
ing like the cow of Montmorency.” 

“ ’Tis horrible ! ’tis damnable !” Philibert grew pale 
with passion and struck his thigh with his palm, as was his 
wont when very angry. “ Rioting in drunkenness when the 
Colony demands the cool head, the strong arm, and the true 
heart of every man among us ! Oh, my country ! my dear 
country ! what fate is thine to expect when men like these 
are thy rulers.^” 

‘‘Your honor must be a stranger in New France or you 


52 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


would not express such hasty, honest sentiments, upon the 
Intendant’s hospitality. It is not the fashion except among 
plain spoken who always, talk downright Norman.” 
Master Pothier looked approvingly at Colonel Philibert, 
who, listening with indignant ears, scarcely heeded his 
guide. 

‘‘ That is a jolly song, your honor,” continued Pothier, 
waiving one hand in cadence to a ditty in praise of wine, 
which a loud voice was heard singing in the Chateau, ac- 
companied by a rousing chorus which startled the very 
pigeons on the roof and chimney-stacks. Colonel Philibert 
recognized the song as one he had heard in the Qiiartier 
Latin^ during his student life in Paris. He fancied he re- 
cognized tlie voice also. 

“ Pour des vins de prix 

Vendons tous nos livres! 

C"est peu d’ etre gris 

Amis soyons ivres ! 

Bon. 

La Faridondaine ! 

Gai. 

La Faridonde 1 

A roar of voices and a clash of glasses followed the re- 
frain. Master Pothier’s eyes winked and blinked in sym- 
pathy. The old notary stood on tiptoe, with outspread 
palms as with os rotundiim he threw in a few notes of his 
own to fill up the chorus. 

Philibert cast upon his guide a look of scorn, biting his 
lip angrily. Go,” said he, ‘‘ knock at the door — it needs 
God’s thunder to break in upon that infamous orgie — say 
that Colonel Philibert brings orders from His Excellency 
the Governor to the Chevalier Intendant.” 

“ And be served with a writ of ejectment ! Pardon me ! 
Be not angry, sir,” pleaded Pothier supplicatingly. “ I 
dare not knock at the door when they are at the devil’s 
mass inside. The valets ! I knov/ them all 1 they would 
duck me in the brook, or drag me into the hall, to make 
sport for the Philistines. And I am not much of a Samson 
your honor. I could not pull the Chateau down upon their 
heads, — I wish I could ! ” 

Master Pothier’s fears did not appear ill-grounded to 
Philibert as a fresh burst of drunken uproar assailed his 
ears. “ Wait my return,” said he, “ I will knock on the 


THE INTENDANT BIGOT, 


53 


door myself/’ He left his guide, ran up the broad stone 
steps, and knocked loudly upon the door again and again ! 
he tried it at last, and to his surprise, found it unlatched, he 
pushed it open, no servitor appearing to admit him. 
Colonel Philibert went boldly in. A blaze of light almost 
dazzled his eyes. The Chateau was lit up with lamps and 
candelabra in every part. The bright rays of the sun beat 
in vain for admittance upon the closed doors and blinded 
windows ; but the splendor of midnight oil pervaded the 
interior of the stately mansion, making an artificial night 
that prolonged the wild orgie of the Intendant into the 
hours of day. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE INTENDANT BIGOT. 

The Chateau of Beaumanoir had, since the advent of 
the Intendant Bigot, been the scene of many a festive 
revelry that matched in bacchanalian frenzy, the wild orgies 
of the Regency, and the present debaucheries of Croisy, and 
the petits appartefnens of Versailles. Its splendor, its luxury, 
its riotous feasts lasting without intermission sometimes for 
days, were the themes of wonder and disgust to the unso- 
phisicated people of New France, and of endless compari- 
son between the extravagance of the royal Intendant, and 
the simple manners and inflexible morals of the Governor 
General. 

The great hall of the Chateau, the scene of the gorgeous 
feasts of the Intendant, was brilliantly illuminated with 
silver lamps, glowing like globes of sunlight as they hung 
from the lofty ceiling, upon which was painted a fresco of 
the apotheosis of Louis XIV., where the Grand Monarque 
was surrounded by a cloud of Condes, Orleanois and Bour- 
bons of near and more remote consanguinity. At the head 
of the room hung a full length portrait of the Marquise de 
Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV., and the friend and 
patroness of the Intendant Bigot, her bold voluptuous 
beauty seemed well fitted to be the presiding genius of his 
house. The walls bore many other paintings of artistic 


54 - 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


and historic value. The King and Queen ; the dark-e3^ed 
Montespan ; the crafty Maintenon, and the pensive beauty 
of Louise de la Valiere, the only mistress of Louis XIV. 
who loved him for his own sake, and whose portrait, copied 
from this picture, may still be seen in the Chapel of the 
Ursulines of Quebec, where the fair Louise is represented 
as St. Thais kneeling at prayer among the nuns. 

The table in the great hall, a masterpiece of workman- 
ship, was made of a dark Canadian wood then newly intro- 
duced, and stretched the length of the hall. A massive gold 
epergne of choicest Italian art, the gift of La Pompadour, 
stood on the centre of the table. It represented Bacchus 
enthroned on a tun of wine, presenting flowing cups to a 
dance of fauns and satyrs. 

Silver cups of Venetian sculpture, and goblets of Bohe- 
mian manufacture, sparkled like stars upon the brilliant table 
— brimming over with the gold and ruby vintages of France 
and Spain — or lay overturned amid pools of wine that ran 
down upon the velvet carpet. Dishes of Parmesan cheese, 
caviare and other provocatives to thirst stood upon the table, 
amid vases of flowers and baskets of the choicest fruits of 
the Antilles. 

Round this magnificent table sat a score or more of 
revellers — in the garb of gentlemen, but all in disorder and 
soiled with wine, — their countenances were inflamed, their 
eyes red and fiery, their tongues loose and loquacious. 
Here and there a vacant or overturned chair showed where 
a guest had fallen in the debauch and been carried off by 
the valets,, who in gorgeous liveries waited on the table. 
A band of musicians sat up in a gallery at the end of the 
hall and filled the pauses of the riotous feast with the ravish- 
ing strains of Lulli and Destouches. 

At the head of the table, first in place as in rank, sat 
Francois Bigot, Intendant of New France. His low, well- 
set figure, dark hair, small keen black eyes and swarthy 
features full of fire and animation bespoke his Gascon blood. 
His countenance was far from comely — nay, when in re- 
pose, even ugly and repulsive, — but his eyes were magnets 
that drew men’s looks towards him, for in them lay the force 
of a powerful will and a depth and subtlety of intellect that 
made men fear, if they could not love him. Yet when he 
chose— and it was his usual mood — to exercise his bland- 
ishments on men, he rarely failed to captivate them, while 


THE INTENDANT BIGOT 


55 


his pleasant wit, courtly ways and natural gallantry towards 
women, exercised with the polished seductiveness he had 
learned in the court of Louis XV., made Fran9ois Bigot the 
most plausible and dangerous man in New France. 

He was fond of wine and music, passionately addicted 
to gambling, and devoted to the pleasant vices that were 
rampant in the Court of France, finely educated, able in 
the conduct of affairs, and fertile in expedients to accom- 
plish his ends. Francois Bigot might have saved New 
France, had he been honest as he was clever ; but he Avas 
unprincipled and corrupt. No conscience checked his 
ambition or his love of pleasure. He ruined New France 
for the sake of himself and his patroness, and the crowd of 
courtiers and frail beauties who surrounded the king, and 
whose arts and influence kept him in his high office despite 
all the efforts of the Honnetes gens^ the good and true men 
of the Colony, to remove him. 

He had already ruined and lost the ancient Colony of 
Acadia, through his defrauds and malversations as Chief 
Commissary of the Army, and, instead of trial and punish- 
ment, had lately been exalted to the higher and still more 
important office of Royal Intendant of New France. 

On the right of the Intendant sat his bosom friend, the 
Sieur Cadet, a large, sensual man, with twinkling grey eyes, 
thick nose and full red lips. His broad face, flushed with 
wine, glowed like the harvest moon rising above the horizon. 
Cadet had, it was said, been a butcher in Quebec. He 
was now, for the misfortune of his country. Chief Commis- 
sary of the Army, and a close confederate of the Inten 
dant. 

On the left of the Intendant sat his secretary, De Pean, 
crafty and unscrupulous, a parasite too,' who flattered 
his master and ministered to his pleasures. De Pean was 
a military man and not a bad soldier in the field ; but he 
loved gain better than glory, and amassed an enormous 
fortune out of the impoverishment of his country. 

Le Mercier too was there. Commandant of Artillery, a 
brave officer, but a bad man; Varin, a proud arrogant 
libertine. Commissary of Montreal, who outdid Bigot in 
rapine and Cadet in coarseness ; De Breard, Comptroller 
of the Marine, a worthy associate of Penisault, whose 
pinched features and cunning leer were in keeping with his 
important office of chief manager of the Friponne ; Perrault, 


THE CHIEN D'OR, 


S6 

D’ Estebe, Morin and Vergor, all creatures of the Inten- 
dant, swelled the roll of infamy, as partners of the Grand 
Company of Associates trading in New France, as their 
charter named them — the ‘‘ Grand Company of Thieves,’’ 
as the people in their plain Norman called them, who rob- 
bed them in the King’s name, and under pretence of 
maintaining the war, passed the most arbitrary decrees, the 
only object of which was to enrich themselves and their 
higher patrons at the Court of Versailles. 

The rest of the company seated round the table com- 
prised a number of dissolute Seigneurs and gallants of 
fashion about town — men of great wants and great extra- 
vagance, just the class so quaintly described by Charle- 
voix, a quarter of a century previous, as ‘‘gentlemen 
thoroughly versed in the most elegant and agreeable modes 
of spending money, but greatly at a loss how to obtain 
it.” 

Among the gay young Seigneurs who had been drawn 
into the vortex of Bigot’s splendid dissipation, was the 
brave, handsome Le Gardeur De Repentigny — a captain 
of the Royal Marine, a colonial corps recently embodied 
at Quebec. In general form and feature Le Gardeur was 
a manly reflex of his beautiful sister Amelie ; but his 
countenance was marred with traces of debauchery. His 
face was inflamed, and his dark eyes, so like his sister’s, 
by nature tender and true, were now glittering with* the 
adder tongues of the cursed wine serpent. 

Taking the cue from Bigot, Le Gardeur responded 
madly to the challenges to drink from all around him. 
Wine was now flooding every brain, and the table was one 
scene of riotous debauch. 

“ Fill up again, Le Gardeur! ” exclaimed the Intendant, 
with a loud and still clear voice ; “ the lying clock says 
it is day — broad day, but neither cock crows nor day 
dawns in the Chateau of Beaumanoir, save at the will of 
its master and his merry guests ! Fill up, companions all I 
The lamp-light in the wine cup is brighter than the clearest 
sun that ever shone 1 ” 

“ Bravo Bigot ! name your toast, and we will pledge 
it till the seven stars count fourteen ! ” replied Le Gar- 
deur, looking lazily at the great clock in the hall. “ I see 
four clocks in the room, and every one of them lies if it 
says it is day ! ” 


THE lA TEND ANT BIGOT. 


57 


“You are mending, Le Gardeur De Repentigny! You 
are worthy to belong to the Grand Company ! But you 
shall have my toast. We have drank it twenty times 
already, but it will stand drinking twenty times more. It 
is the best prologue to wine ever devised by wit of man 
— a . worn an — ” 

“And the best epilogue, too, Bigot!” interjected 
Varin, visibly drunk ; “ but let us have the toast — my cup 
is waiting.” 

“ Well, fill up all, then ; and we will drink the health, 
wealth, and love by stealth, of the jolliest dame in sunny 
France — the Marquise de Pompadour! ” 

“ La Pompadour ! La Pompadour ! ” Every tongue 
repeated the name, the goblets were drained to the bot- 
toms, and a thunder of applause and clattering of glasses 
followed the toast of the mistress of Louis XV., who was 
the special protectress of the Grand Company — a goodly 
share of whose profits in the monopoly of trade in New 
France was thrown into the lap of the powerful favorite. 

“Come, Varin! your turn now!” cried Bigot, turning 
to the Commissary ; “ a toast for Ville Marie ! Merry 
Montreal ! where they eat like rats of Poitou, and drink till 
they ring the fire bells, as the Bordelais. did to welcome 
the collectors of the gabelle. The Montrealers have not 
rung the fire bells yet against you, Varin, but they will by 
and by ! ” 

Varin filled his cup with an unsteady hand until it ran 
over, and, propping his body against the table as he stood 
up, replied : “ A toast for Ville Marie ! and our friends in 
need !— the blue caps of the Richelieu ! ” This was in 
allusion to a recent ordinance of the Intendant, authorizing 
him to seize all the corn in store at Montreal and in the 
surrounding country — under pretence of supplying the 
army, and really to secure the monopoly of it for the Grand 
Company.” 

The toast was drunk amid rapturous applause. “Well 
said, Varin ! ” exclaimed Bigot ; “ that toast implied both 
business and pleasure — the business was to sweep out the 
granges of the farmers : the pleasure is to drink in honor 
of your success.” 

“ My foragers sweep clean ! ” said Varin, resuming his 
seat, and looking under his hand to steady his gaze, 
“ Better brooms were never made in Besan9on. The 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


58 

country is swept as clean as a ball room. Your Excel- 
lency and the Marquise might lead the dance over it, and 
not a straw lie in your way ! 

‘‘And did you manage it without a fight, Varin?” 
asked the Sieur d’Estebe, with a half sneer. 

“ Fight ! Why fight ? The habitans will never resist 
the King’s name. We conjure the devil down with that. 
When we skin our eels we don’t begin at the tail ! If we 
did the habitans would be like the eels of Melun — cry 
out before they were hurt. No ! no ! d’Estebe ! We are 
more polite in Ville Marie. We tell them the King’s 
troops need the corn. They doff their caps, and, with 
tears in their eyes, say, “ Monsieur Le Commissaire, the 
King can have all we possess, and ourselves too, if he will 
only save Canada from the Bostonnais. This is better than 
stealing the honey and killing the bees that made it. 
d’Estebe ! ” 

“But what became of the families of the habitans after 
this swoop of your foragers ? ” asked the Seigneur De 
Beauce, a country gentleman who retained a few honor- 
able ideas floating on top of the wine he had swallowed. 

“ Oh ! the families — that is, the women and children, 
for we took the men for the army. You see, De Beauce,” 
replied Varin, with a mocking air, as he crossed his thumbs 
like a peasant of Languedoc when he wishes to inspire 
belief in his words, “ the families have to do what the 
gentlemen of Beauce practise in times of scarcity — -break- 
fast by gaping ! or they can eat wind like the people of 
Poitou. It will make them spit clean ! ” 

De Beauce was irritated at the mocking sign and the 
proverbial allusion to the gaping of the people of Beauce. 
He started up in wrath, and striking his fist on the 
table, 

“ Monsieur Varin ! ” cried he, “ do not cross your 
thumbs at me, or I will cut them off ! Let me tell you the 
gentlemen of Beauce do not breakfast on gaping, but have 
plenty of corn to stuff even a Commissary of Montreal ! ” 

The Sieur Le Mercier, at a sign from Bigot, interposed 
to stop the rising quarrel. “ Don’t mind Varin,” said he, 
whispering to De Beauce ; “ he is drunk, and a row will 
anger the Intendant. Wait, and by and by you shall toast 
Varin as the chief baker of Pharoah, who got hanged 
because he stole the King’s corn.” 


THE INTENDANT BIGOT. 


59 


“ As he deserves to be for his insult to the gentlemen 
of Beauce,” insinuated Bigot, leaning over to his angry 
guest, at the same time winking good humoredly to Varin. 

Come now, De Beauce, friends all — ama7itiicm irce., you 
know, which is Latin for love — and I will sing you a stave 
in praise of this good wine, which is better than Bacchus 
ever drank.’’ The Intendant rose up, and holding a brim- 
ming glass in his hand, chanted in full musical voice a 
favorite ditty of the day as a ready mode of restoring har- 
mony among the company : — 

Amis ! dans ma bouteille, 

Voila le vin de France ! 

C’est le bon vin qui danse ici, 

C’est le bon vin qui danse. 

Gai Ion la ! 

Vive la lirette ! 

Des Fillettes 
II y en aura ! 

“ Vivent les Fillettes ! The girls of Quebec ? — first in beauty, 
last in love, and nowhere in scorn of a gallant worthy 
of them ! ” continued Bigot. “ What say you,. De Pean ? 
Are you not prepared to toast the belles of Quebec ? ” 

“ That I am, your Excellency ! ” De Pean was un- 
steady upon his feet as he rose to respond to the Intendant’s 
challenge. He pot-valiantly drew his sword and laid it on 
the table. will call on the honorable company to drink 
this toast upon their knees, and there is my sword to cut the 
legs off any gentleman who will not kneel down and drink 
a full cup to the bright eyes of the belle of Quebec — the 
incomparable Angelique des Meloises ! ” 

The toast suited their mood. Every one filled up his 
cup in honor of a beauty so universally admired. 

“ Kneel down all ! ” cried the Intendant, “ or De Peau 
will hamstring us ! ” All knelt down with a clash — some 
of them unable to rise again. “ We will drink to the 
Angelique charms of the fair Des Meloises. Come now, 
all together ! — as the jolly Dutchmen of Albany say, “ Upp 
seys over / ” 

Such of the company as were able, resumed their seats 
amid great laughter and confusion. When the Sieur 
Deschenaux, a reckless young gallant, ablaze with wine 
and excitement, stood up, leaning against the table, his 
fingers dabbled in his wine cup as he addressed them, but 
he did not notice it. 


6o 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


We have drank with all the honors/^ said he, to the 
bright eyes of the belle of Quebec. I call on every gentle- 
man now, to drink to the still brighter eyes of the belle of 
New France ! ’’ 

‘WVho is she? Name! name!’’ shouted a dozen 
voices ; who is the belle of New France ? ” 

‘‘ Who is she ? Why, who can she be but the fair 
Angelique whom we have just honored?” replied De Pean 
hotly, jealous of any precedence in that quarter. 

“ Tut ! ’’'cried Deschenaux, “you compare glow worms 
with evening stars when you pretend to match Angelique 
Des Meloises with the lady I propose to honor ! I call 
for full brimmers — Cardinal’s hats ! — in honor of the belle 
of New France — the fair Ainelie De Repentigny ! ” 

Le Gardeur de Repentigny was sitting leaning on his 
elbow, his face beaming with jollity as he waited, with a 
full cup, for Deschenaux’s toast. But no sooner did he hear 
the name of his sister from those lips than he sprang up 
as though a serpent had bit him. He hurled his goblet at 
the head of Deschenaux, with a fierce imprecation and drew 
his sword as he rushed towards him. 

“ A thousand lightnings strike you ! How dare you 
pollute that holy name, Deschenaux ? Retract that toast in- 
stantly, or you shall drink it in blood ; — retract, I say ! ” 
The guests rose to their feet in terrible uproar. Lc 
Gardeur struggled violently to break through a number of 
those who interposed between him and Deschenaux, who, 
roused to frenzy by the insult from Le Gardeur, had also 
drawn his sword and stood ready to receive the assault of 
his antagonist. 

The Intendant, whose courage and presence of mind 
never forsook him, pulled Deschenaux down upon his seat 
and held fast his sword arm, shouting in his ear : 

“ Are you mad, Deschenaux ? You knew she was his 
sister, an^d how he worships her ! Retract the toast — it was 
inopportune ! Besides, recollect, we want to win over De 
Repentigny to the Grand Company ! ” 

Deschenaux struggled for a minute, but the influence of 
the Intendant was all powerful over him. He gave way. 
“ Damn De Repentigny,” said he, “ I only meant to do 
honor to the pretty witch. Who would have expected him 
to take it up in that manner ? ” 

“ Any one who knows him ! besides,” continued the 


THE INTENDANT BIGOT. 


6i 


Intendant, ‘‘ If you must toast his sister, wait till we get 
him body and soul made over to the Grand Company, and 
then he will care no more for his sister’s fame than you 
do for yours.” ^ 

‘‘ But the insult ! He has drawn blood with the gob- 
let,” said Deschenaux, wiping his forehead with his fingers. 

I cannot pardon that ! ” 

‘‘ Tut, tut ; fight him another day. But you shall not 
fight here ! Cadet and Le Mercier have pinned the young 
Bayard, I see ; so you have a chance to do the honorable, 
Deschenaux, go to him, retract the toast and say you had 
forgotten the fair lady was his sister.” 

Deschenaux swallowed his wrath, rose up and sheathed 
his sword. Taking the Intendant by the arm he went up 
to Le Gardeur, who was still trying to advance. Desche- 
naux held up his hand deprecatingly, Le Gardeur,” said 
he, with an air of apparent contrition, I was wrong to of- 
fer that toast. I had forgotten the fair lady was your sis- 
ter. I retract the toast, since it is disagreeable to you, al- 
though all would have been proud to drink it.” 

Le Gardeau was as hard to appease as he was easy to 
excite to anger. He still held his drawn sword in his 
hand. . 

“ Come ! ” cried Bigot, you are as hard to please as 
Villiers Vendome, whom the king himself could not satisfy. 
Deschenaux says he is sorry. A gentleman cannot say 
more. So shake hands and be friends, De Repentigny.” 

Impervious to threats and often to reason, Le Gardeur 
could not resist an appeal to his generosity. 

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand with 
frank forgiveness. ‘‘ Your apology is ample, Sieur Desche- 
naux. I am satisfied you meant no affront to my sister ! It 
is my weak point. Messieurs,” continued he, looking firmly 
at the company, ready to break out had he detected the 
shadow of a sneer upon any one’s countenance. “ I honor 
her as I do tfie queen of Heaven. Neither of their names 
ought to be spoken here.” 

“ Well said ! Le Gardeur,” exclaimed the Intendant. 
‘‘That’s right, .shake hands and be friends again. Blessed 
are quarrels that lead to reconciliation, and the washing 
out of feuds in wine. Take your seats, gentlemen.” 

There was a general scramble back to the table. Bigot 
stood up in renewed force.. 


62 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


‘^Valets ! ” cried he, ‘‘bring in now the largest cups ! 
We will drink a toast five fathoms deep, in water of life- 
strong enough to melt Cleopatra’s pearls, and to a jollier 
dame than Egypt’s queen. But first we will make Le Gar- 
deur De Repentigny free of the guild of noble partners of 
the company of adventurers trading in New France.” 

The valets flew in and out. In a few moments the table 
was replenished with huge drinking cups, silver flagons, 
and all the heavy impedimenta of the army of Bacchus. 

“ You are willingTo become one of us, and enter the 
jolly guild of the Grand Company ? ” exclaimed the In- 
ten dan t, taking Le Gardeur by the hand. 

‘*Yes, I am a stranger and you may take mein. I 
claim admission/’ replied Le Gardeur with drunken gravi- 
ty, “ and by St. Bigot, I will be true to the guild ! ” 

Bigot kissed him on both cheeks. “ By the boot of 
St. Benoit, you speak like the king of Yvetot. Le Gar- 
deur de Repentigny, you are fit to wear fur in the Court of 
Burgundy.” 

“ You can measure my foot. Bigot,” replied Le Gar- 
deur, “ and satisfy the company that I am able to wear the 
boot of St Benoit” 

“ By jolly St. Chinon, and you shall wear it, -Le Gar- 
deur,” exclaimed Bigot, handing him a quart flagon of 
wine, which Le Gardeur drank without drawing breath. 
“’That boot fits,” shouted the Intendant exultingly : “ now 
for the chant ! I will lead. Stop the breath of any one 
who will not join in the chorus.” 

The Intendant in great voice led off a macaronic verse 
of Moliere, that had often made merry the orgies of Ver- 
sailles : — 

“ Bene, bene, bene, respondere I 
Dignus, digaenus es, entrare 
In nostro loeto corpore ! ” 

A tintamarre of voices, and a jingle of glasses accom- 
panied the violins and tambours de basque, as the com- 
pany stood up and sang the song, winding up with a grand 
burst at the chorus : — 

“ Vivat ! vivat ! vivat ! cent fois vivat ! 

Novus socius qui tarn bene parlat! 

Mille mille aunis et manget et bibat, 

Fripet et friponnat I ” 


THE INTENDANT BIGOT. 


63 

Hands were shaken all round, congratulations, em- 
bracings and filthy kisses showered upon Le Gardeur to 
honor his admission as a partner of the Grand Company. 

“ And now,” continued Bigot, “ we will drink a draught 
long as the bell rope of Notre Dame. Fill up brimmers 
of the quintessence of the grape, and drain them dry in 
honor of the Friponne ! ” 

The name was electric. It was in the country a word 
of opprobrium, but at Beaumanoir it was laughed at with 
true Gallic nonchalance. Indeed, to show their scorn 
of public opinion, the Grand Company had lately launched 
a new ship upon the great lakes to carry on the fur trade, 
and had appropriately and mockingly named her, La Fri- 
ponne L 

Let them laugh that win ! ” said Bigot one day to 
D’Estebe, who was in a rage at having heard the hateful 
epithet used by a plain spoken hahitan. We accept the 
name and can withstand the blame. If they say more 
I will paint it in letters a yard long upon the front of the 
Palais, and make it the horn book from which the rustics 
shall take their first lesson in reading and spelling.” 

The toast of the Friponne! was drunk with applause, 
followed by a wild Bacchanalian song — 

The Sieur Morin had been a merchant in Bordeaux 
whose bond was held in as little value as his word. He 
had lately removed to New France, transferred the bulk of 
his merchandize to the Friponne, and become an active 
agent of the Grand Company. 

“ La Friponne ! ” cried he, I have drunk success to 
her with all my heart and throat. But I say she will never 
wear a night-cap and sleep quietly in our arms, until we 
muzzle the Golden Dog, that barks by night and by day in 
the Rue Buade.” 

“That is true, Morin!” interrupted Varin, roused to 
wrath at the mention of the Golden Dog. “ The grand 
company will never know peace until we send the Bour- 
geois, his master, back to the Bastille. The Golden Dog 
is—.” 

“ Damn the Golden Dog ! ” exclaimed Bigot, passion- 
ately. “Why do you utter his name, Varin, to sour our 
wine ? I hope one day to pull down the Dog, as well as 
the whole kennel of the insolent Bourgeois.” Then, as 
was his wont, concealing his feelings under a mocking 


64 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


gibe, Varin,’’ sai'd he, they say that is your marrow bone 
the Golden Dog is gnawing, ha ! ha ! ha ! ’’ 

‘‘ More people believe it is your Excellency’s ! ” Varin 
knew he was right, but aware of Bigot’s touchiness on that 
point, added, as is the wont of panderers to great men : ‘‘ It 
is either yours or the Cardinal’s.” 

Let it be the Cardinal’s, then ! He is still in purga- 
tory, and will wait there the arrival of the Bourgeois, to bal- 
ance accounts with him.” 

Bigot hated the Bourgeois Philibert as one hates the 
man he has injured. Bigot had been instrumental in his 
banishment years ago from France, when the bold Norman 
Count defended the persecuted Jansenists in the Parlia- 
ment of Rouen. The Intendant hated him now for his 
wealth and prosperity in New France. But his wrath turned 
to fury when he saw the tablet of the Golden Dog, with its 
taunting insciiption, glaring upon the front of the Maga- 
zine in the Rue Buade. Bigot felt the full meaning and 
significance of the words that burned into his soul, and 
for which he hoped one day to be revenged. 

“ Confusion to the whole litter of the Golden Dog, 
and that is the party of the HomiUes gens cried he. 
‘‘But for that canting savant, who plays the Governor here, 
I would pull down the sign and hang its master up in its 
stead to-morrow ! ” 

The company now grew still more hilarious and noisy 
in their cups. Few paid attention to what the Intendant 
was saying. But De Repentigny heard him utter the words : 
“ Oh, for men who dare do men’s deeds ! ” He caught the 
eye of De Repentigny and added, “ But we are all cowards 
in the Grand Company, and are afraid of the Bourgeois.” 

The wine was bubbling in the brain of Le Gardeur. 
He scarcely knew what the Intendant said, but he caught 
the last words. 

“ Whom do you call cowards, Chevalier ? I have join- 
ed the Grand Company. If the rest are cowards, I am not ! 
I stand ready to pluck the perruque off the head of any 
man in New France, and carry it on my sword to the Place 
d’Armes, where I will challenge all the world to come and 
take it.” 

“ Pish ! that is nothing ! give me man’s work. I want 
to see the partner in the Grand Company who dare pull 
down the Golden Dog.” 


THE INTENDANT BIGO T. 


65 

I dare ! and I dare ! ” exclaimed a dozen voices at 
once in response to the appeal of the Intendant, who craft- 
ily meant his challenge to ensnare only Le Gardeur. 

‘‘ And I dare ; and I will too ! if you wish it, Cheva- 
lier ! ” shouted Le Gardeur, mad with wine and quite ob- 
livious of the thousand claims of the father of his friend 
Pierre Philibert upon him. 

“ I take you at your word, Le Gardeur ! and bind your 
honor to' it in the presence of all these gentlemen,’’ said 
Bigot with a look of intense satisfaction. 

When shall it be done — to day? ” Le Gardeur seem- 
ed ready to pluck the moon from the sky in his present 
state of ecstasy. 

- ‘‘ Why no, not to-day ! — not before the pear is ripe will 
we pluck it. Your word of honor will keep till then ? ” 

Bigot was in great glee over the success of his strata- 
gem to entrap De Repen tigny. 

“ It will keep a thousand years ! ” replied Le Gardeur, 
amid a fresh outburst of merriment round the board which 
culminated in a shameless song, fit only for a revel of 
satyrs. 

The Sieur Cadet lolled lazily in his chair, his eyes 
blinking with a sleepy leer. “We are getting stupidly 
drunk. Bigot,” said he : “ we want something new to rouse 
us all to fresh life. Will you let me offer a toast ? ” 

“ Go on. Cadet ! offer what toast you please. There 
is nothing in heaven, hell, or upon earth that I wont drink 
to for your sake.” 

“ I want you to drink it on your knees. Bigot ! pledge 
me that and fill your biggest cup.”* 

“ We will drink it on all fours if you like ! come, out 
with your toast. Cadet ; you are as long over it as Father 
Glapion’s sermon in Lent ! and it will be as interesting I 
dare say ! ” 

“ Well, Chevalier, the Grand Company, after toasting all 
the beauties of Quebec, desire to drink the health of the 
fair mistress of Beaumanoir, and in her presence too ! ” 
said Cadet with owlish gravity. 

Bigot started, drunk and reckless as he was, he did not 
like his secret to be divulged. He was angry with Cadet 
for referring to it in the presence of so many who knew 
not that a strange lady was residing at Beaumanoir. He 
was too thoroughly a libertine of the period to feel any 

5 


66 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


moral compunction for any excess he committed. He was 
habitually more ready to glory over his conquests, than to 
deny or extenuate them. But in this case he had, to the 
surprise of Cadet, been very reticent and shy of speaking 
of this lady even to him. 

‘‘ They say she is a miracle of beauty. Bigot ! ” contin- 
ued Cadet, ‘‘ and that you are so jealous of the charms of 
your belle Gabrielle, that you are afraid to show her to 
your best friends.’’ 

‘‘My belle Gabrielle, is at liberty to go where she 
pleases. Cadet ! ” Bigot saw the absurdity of anger, but 
he felt it nevertheless. “ She chooses not to leave her 
bower, to look even on you. Cadet ! I warrant you she 
has not slept all night, listening to your infernal din.” 

“ Then, I hope you will allow us to go and beg pardon 
on our knees for disturbing her rest. What say the good 
company ? ” 

“ Agreed, agreed ! ” was the general response, and all 
pressed the Intendant vociferously to allow them to see the 
fair mistress of Beaumanoir, about whose beauty so much 
had been privately talked among Bigot’s intimate asso- 
ciates. 

Varin, however, proposed that she should be brought 
into the hall. “ Send her to us, O King,” cried he, “ we 
are nobles of Persia, and this is Shushan the palace, where 
we carouse according to the law of the Medes, seven days 
at a stretch. Let the king bring in Queen Vashti, to show 
her beauty to the princes and nobles of his court ! ” 

Bigot, too full of wine to weigh scruples, yielded to the 
wish of his boon companions. He rose from his chair 
which in his absence was taken by Cadet. “ Mind ! ” said 
he, “ if I bring her in, you shall show her every respect.” 

“ We will kiss the dust of her feet,” answered Cadet, 
“ and consider you the greatest king of a feast in New 
France or Old.” 

Bigot, without further parley passed out of the hall, 
traversed a long corridor and entered an anteroom where 
he found Dame Tremblay, the old house-keeper, dozing on 
her chair. He roused her up and bade her go to the inner 
chamber to summon her mistress. 

The house-keeper rose in a moment at the voice of the 
Intendant. She was a comely dame, with a ruddy cheek, 
and an eye in her head that looked inquisitively at her 


CAROLINE DE ST, CASTIN 67 

master, as she arranged her cap, and threw back her rather 
gay ribbons. 

‘‘ I want your mistress up in the great hall ! go sum- 
mon her at once,” repeated the Intendant. 

The house-keeper curtseyed, but pressed her lips to- 
gether as if to prevent them from speaking in remon- 
strance. She went at once on her ungracious errand. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

CAl^OLINE DE ST. CASTIN. 

Dame Tremblay entered the suite of apartments and 
returned in a few moments, saying, ‘‘ that her lady was not 
there but had gone down to the secret chamber to be, she 
supposed, more out of hearing of the noise which had dis- 
turbed h^r so much.” 

‘‘ I will go find her then,” replied the Intendant, “ you 
may return to your own room, dame ! ” 

He walked across the drawing-room to one of the gor- 
geous panels that decorated the wall, and touched a hid- 
den spring. A door flew open, disclosing a stair heavily 
carpeted that led down to the huge vaulted foundations of 
the chateau. 

He descended the stair with hasty though unsteady 
steps. It led to a spacious room, lighted with a gorgeous 
lamp that hung pendant in silver chains from the frescoed 
ceiling. The walls were richly tapestried with products of 
the looms of the Gobelins, representing the plains of Italy 
filled with sunshine where groves, temples and colonnades 
were pictured in endless vistas of beauty. The furniture 
of the chamber was of regal magnificence. Nothing that 
luxury could desire, or art furnish, had been spared in its 
adornment. On a sofa lay a guitar, and beside it a scarf 
and a dainty glove fit for the hand of the fairy queen. 

The Intendant looked eagerly round, as he entered this 
bright chamber of his fancy, but saw not its expected oc- 
cupant. A recess in the deep wall at the farther side of the 
room contained an oratory, with an altar and a crucifix 
upon it. The recess was partly in the shade. But the 


68 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


eyes of the Intendant discerned clearly enough the kneel- 
ing, or rather the prostrate figure of Caroline de St. Castin. 
Her hands were clasped beneath her head, which was bow- 
ed to the ground. Her long black hair lay dishevelled 
over her back, as she lay in her white robe like the Angel 
of Sorrow, weeping and crying from the depths of her 
broken heart : ‘‘ Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of 
the world, have mercy upon me ! ’’ She was so absorbed 
in her grief that she did not notice the entrance of the In- 
tendant. 

Bigot stood still for a moment, stricken with awe at the 
spectacle of this lovely woman weeping by herself in the 
secret chamber. A look of something like pity stole into 
his eyes, he called her by name, ran to her, assisted her 
to rise, which she did slowly turning towards him that 
weeping Madonna-like face, which haunts the ruins of 
Beaumanoir to this day. 

She was of medium stature, slender and lissome, look- 
ing taller than she really was. Her features were chiselled 
with exquisite delicacy. Her hair of a raven blackness, 
and eyes of that dark lustre which reappears for genera- 
tions in the descendants of Europeans, who have mingled 
their blood with that of the Aborigines of the forest. The 
Indian eye is preserved as an heir loom, long after all 
memory of the Red stain has vanished from the traditions 
of the family. Her complexion was pale, naturally of a rich 
olive, but now through sorrow of a wan and bloodless hue 
— still very beautiful and more appealing than the rosiest 
complexion. 

Caroline de St. Castin was an Acadienne, of ancient 
and noble family, whose head and founder, the Baron de 
St. Castin, had married the beautiful daughter of the high 
chief of the Abenaquis. 

Her father^s house — one of the most considerable in 
the Colony, had been the resort of the royal officers, civil 
and military, serving in Acadia. Caroline, the only daugh- 
ter of the noble house, had been reared in all the refine- 
ments and luxuries of the period, as became her rank and 
position both in France and her native Province. 

In an evil hour for her happiness, this beautiful and ac- 
complished girl met the Chevalier Bigot, who as Chief 
Commissary of the Army, was one of the foremost of the 
Royal officers in Acadia. 


CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN. 


69 

• 

His ready wit and graceful manners pleased and flat- 
tered the susceptible girl, not used to the seductions of the 
polished courtesies of the Mother Land of France. She was 
of a joyous temper, gay, frank and confiding. Her father, 
immersed in public affairs, left her much to herself, nor, 
had he known it, would he have disapproved of the gallant 
courtesies of the Chevalier Bigot. For the Baron had the 
soul of honor, and dreamt every gentleman as well as him- 
self possessed it. 

Bigot, to do him justice, felt as sincere a regard for this 
beautiful, amiable girl as his nature was capable of enter- 
taining. In rank and fortune, she was more than his 
equal and left to himself, he would willingly have married 
her before he learned that his project of a marriage in 
the Colony, was scouted at Court. He had already offer- 
ed his love to Caroline de St. Castin, and won easily the 
gentle heart that was but too well disposed to receive his 
homage. 

Her trust went with her love. Earth was never 
so green, nor air so sweet, nor skies so bright and azure, as 
those of Caroline’s wooing, on the shores of the beautiful 
bay of Minas. She loved this man with a passion that filled 
with ecstasy her whole being. She trusted his promises as 
she would have trusted God’s. She loved him better than 
she loved herself — better than she loved God, or God’s 
law ; and counted as a gain every loss she suffered for his 
sake, and for the affection she bore him. 

After some months spent in her charming society, a 
change came ever Bigot. He received formidable missives 
from his great patroness at Versailles, the Marquise de 
Pompadour, who had other matrimonial designs for him. 
Bigot was too slavish a courtier to resent her interference, 
nor was he honest enough to explain his position to his 
betrothed. He deferred his marriage. The exigencies of 
the war called him away. He had triumphed over a fond 
confiding wornan ; but he had been trained among the dis- 
solute spirits of the Regency too thoroughly to feel more 
than a passing regret for a woman whom, probably he loved 
better chan any other of the victims of his licentious life. 

When he finally left Acadia a conquered Province in 
the hands of the English, he also left behind him, the 
one true loving heart that believed in his honor, and still 
prayed for his happiness. 


70 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


The days of Caroline’s disillusion soon came ; she could 
not conceal from herself that she had been basely de- 
ceived and abandoned by the man she loved so ardently. 
She learned that Bigot had been elevated to the high office 
of Intendant of New France, but felt herself as utterly 
forgotten by him as the rose that had bloomed and wither- 
ed in her garden two summers ago. 

Her father had been summoned to France on the loss 
of the Colony ; and fearing to face him on his return, Car- 
oline suddenly left her home, and sought refuge in the 
forest among her far-off kindred, the red Abenaquis. 

The Indians welcomed her with joy and unbounded re- 
spect, recognizing her right to their devotion and obedience. 
They put upon her feet the mocassins of their tribe, and 
sent her with a trusty escort through the wilderness, to 
Quebec, where she hoped to find the Intendant ; not to re- 
proach him for his perfidy, (her gentle heart was too much 
subdued for that,) but to claim his protection, and if refused, 
to die at his door. 

It was under such circumstances that the beautiful high 
born Caroline de St. Castin became an inmate of Beau- 
manoir. She had passed the night of this wild debauch in a 
vigil of prayers, tears and lamentations over her sad lot, 
and over the degradation of Bigot by the life which she 
now knew he led. Sometimes her maddened fancy was 
ready to accuse Providence itself of cruelty and injustice. 
Sometimes magnifying her own sin,, she was ready to think 
all earthly punishment upon herself as too light, and in- 
voked death and judgment as alone adequate to her fault. 
All night long she had knelt before the altar, asking for 
mercy and forgiveness. Sometimes starting to her feet in 
terror, as a fresh burst of revelry came rushing from the 
great Hall above, and shook the door of her secret cham- 
ber. But no one came to her help, no one looked in upon her 
desolation. She deemed herself utterly forgotten and 
forsaken of God and man. 

Occasionally she fancied she could distinguish the voice 
of the Intendant amid the drunken uproar, and she shud- 
dered at the infatuation which bound her very soul to this 
man ; and yet when she questioned her heart, she knew that 
base as he was, all she had done and suffered for him, she 
would infallibly do again. Were her life to live over, she 
would repeat the fault of loving this false, ungrateful man ! 


CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN. 


71 


The promise of marriage had been equivalent to marriage 
in her trust of him, and nothing but death could now di- 
vorce her from him. 

Hour after hour passed by, each seeming an age of suf- 
fering. Her feelings were worked up to frenzy. She fan- 
cied she heard her father’s angry voice calling her by name, 
or she heard accusing angels jeering at her fall. She sank 
prostrate at last, in the abandonment of despair, calling 
upon God to put an end to her miserable life. 

Bigot raised her from the floor, with words of pity and 
sympathy. She turned on him a look of gratitude, which, 
had he been of stone, he must have felt it. But Bigot’s 
words meant less than .she fancied. He was still too intox- 
icated to reflect, or feel shame of his present errand. 

“ Caroline !” said he, “ what do you here ? This is the 
time to make merry — not to pray ! The honorable com- 
pany in the great Hall desire to pay their respects to the 
lady of Beaumanoir — come with me ! ” 

He drew her hand through his arm with a courtly grace 
that seldom forsook him, even in his worst moments. Caro- 
line looked at him in a dazed manner, not comprehending 
his request. “Go with you, Frangois you know I will; 
but where ? ” 

“ To the great Hall,” repeated he, “ my worthy guests 
desire to see you and to pay their respects to the fair lady 
of Beaumanoir.” 

It flashed upon her mind what he wanted. Her woman- 
ly pride was outraged as it had never been before, she 
withdrew her hand from his arm with shame and terror 
stamped on every feature. 

“ Go up there ! Go to show myself to your guests ! ”' 
exclaimed she, with choking accents, as she stepped back 
a pace from him — “ Oh, Francois Bigot, spare me that 
shame and humiliation, I am, I know, contemptible beyond 
human respect, but still — God help me ! I am not so vile 
as to be made a spectacle of infamy, to those drunken men, 
whom I hear clamoring for me, even now.” 

“ Pshaw! You think too much of the proprieties, Caro- 
line ! ” Bigot felt sensibly perplexed at the attitude she as- 
sumed. “ Why 1 The fairest dames of Paris, dressed as 
Hebes and Ganymedes. thought it a fine jest to wait on the 
Regent Duke of Orleans, and the Cardinal du Bois, in the 
gay days of the king’s bachelorhood, and they do the same 


72 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


now when the king gets up one of his great feasts at Choisy ; 
so come sweetheart — come ! ’’ He drew her towards the 
door. 

“ Spare me, Frangois ! Caroline knelt at his feet, clasp- 
ing his hand and bathing it in tears — ‘‘ Spare me ! ’’ cried 
she. Oh, would to God I had died, ere you came to com- 
mand me to do what I cannot and will not do, Francois ! ’’ 
added she, clasping hard the hand of the Intendant, which 
she fancied relaxed somewhat of its iron hardness. 

‘‘ I did not come to command you, Caroline ! but to bear 
the request of my guests. No, I do not even ask you on my 
account to go up to the great Hall. It is to please my 
guests only.’’ Her tears and heart-rending appeal, be- 
gan to sober him. Bigot had not counted upon such a 
scene as this. 

Oh, thanks, Fran9ois, for that word ! you did not come 
to command my obedience in such a shameful thing. You 
had some small regard left for the unfortunate Caroline ; 
say you will not command me to go up there,” added she, 
looking at him with eyes of pitiful pleading, such as no 
Italian art ever portrayed on the face of the sorrowing 
Madonna. 

‘‘ No,” he replied, impatiently. It was not I proposed 
it. It was Cadet. He is always a fool when the wine 
overflows, as I am too, or I would not have hearkened to 
him 1 Still, Caroline, I have promised, and my guests will 
jeer me finely if I return without you.” He thought she 
hesitated a moment in her resolve at this suggestion. 
‘‘ Come, for my sake, Caroline ! Do up that disordered 
hair ; I shall be proud of you, my Caroline. There is not 
a lady in New France can match you when you look your- 
self, my pretty Caroline ! ” 

“ Francois : ” said she, with a sad smile, it is long 
since you flattered me thus 1 But I will arrange my hair, 
for you alone,” added she, blushing, as with deft fingers she 
twisted her raven locks into a coronal about her head. “ I 
would once have gone with you to the end of the world to 
hear you say you were proud of me. Alas ! you can never 
be proud of me any more, as in the old happy days at 
Grand Pre. Those few brief days of love and joy can 
never return — never, never ! ” 

Bigot stood silent, not knowing what to say or do. The 
change from the Bacchanalian riot in the great Hall, to 


CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN. 


73 


the solemn pathos and woe of the secret chamber sobered 
him rapidly. Even his obduracy gave way at last. ‘‘ Car- 
oline/’ said he, taking both her hands in his, I will not 
urge you longer. I am called bad, and you think me so ; 
but I am not brutal. It was a promise made over the 
wine. Varin, the drunken beast, called you Queen Vashti, 
and challenged me to show your beauty to them ; and I 
swore not one of their toasted beauties could match my 
fair Acadienne.” 

“ Did the Sieur Varin call me Queen Vashti? Alas ! 
he was a truer prophet than he knew,” replied she with 
ineffable sadness. “ Queen Vashti refused to obey even 
her king, when commanded to unveil her face to the 
drunken nobles. She was deposed, and another raised to 
her place. Such may be my fate, Francois.” 

“ Then you will not go, Caroline ? ” 

“ No — kill me if you like, and bear my dead body into 
the Hall — but living, I can never shoW my face again be- 
fore men — hardly before you, Francois,” added she, blush- 
ing, as she hid her tearful eyes on his shoulder. 

“ Well then, Caroline,” replied he, really admiring her 
spirit and resolution, ‘‘ they shall finish their carouse with- 
out seeing you. The wine has flowed to-night in rivers, 
but they shall swim in it without you.” 

“ And tears have flowed down here,” said she, sadly — 
‘^oh, so bitter! May you never taste their bitterness, Fran- 
9ois ! ” 

Bigot paced the chamber with steadier steps than 
he had entered it. The fumes were clearing from his 
brain ; the song that h-ed caught the ear of Colonel Phili- 
bert, as he approached the Chteau, was resounding at 
this moment. As it ceased Bigot heard the loud impatient 
knocking of Philibert at the outer door. 

“Darling!” said he, “lie down now, and compose 
yourself. Francois Bigot is not unmindful of your sacri- 
fices for his sake. I must return to my guests, who are 
clamoring for me, or rather for you, Caroline ! ” 

He kissed her cheek, and turned to leave her, but she 
clung to his hand as if wanting to say something more 
ere he went. She trembled visibly, as her low plaintive 
tones struck his ear. 

“ Francois ! if you would forsake the companionship of 
those men, and purify your table of such excess, God’s 


74 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


blessing would yet descend upon you, and the people^s love 
follow you ! It is in your power to be as good as you are 
great ! I have many days wished to say this to you, but 
alas, I feared you too much. I do not fear you to day, 
Fran9ois, after your kind words to me.’’ 

Bigot was not impenetrable to that low voice so full of 
pathos and love. But he was at a loss what to reply- 
strange influences were flowing round him, carrying him 
out of himself. He kissed the gentle head that reclined 
on his bosom. ‘‘ Caroline,” said he, “ your advice is wise 
and good as yourself. I will think of it for your sake, if 
not for my own. Adieu, darling ! Go and take rest ; these 
cruel vigils are killing you, and I want you to live in hope 
of brighter days.” 

I will,” replied she, looking up with ineffable tender- 
ness. ‘‘ I am sure I shall rest after your kind words, Fran- 
cois? No dew of Heaven was ever more refreshing than 
the balm they bring to my weary soul. Thanks, oh my 
Frangois, for them ! ” She kissed his lips, and Bigot left the 
secret chamber a sadder and for the moment a better man 
than he had ever been before. 

Caroline, overcome by her emotions, threw herself on a 
couch, invoking blessings upon the head of the man by 
whom she had been so cruelly betrayed. But such is 
woman’s heart — full of. mercy, compassion and pardon for 
every wrong when love pleads for forgiveness. 

“ Ha ! Ha ! ” said Cadet, as the Intendant re-entered 
the great Hall, which was filled with Bacchanalian frenzy. 
‘‘ Ha ! Ha ! His Excellency has proposed and been re- 
jected ! The fair lady has a wilt of her own and wonff 
obey ! why, the Intendant looks as if he had come from 
Quintin Corentin, where nobody gets anything he wants ! ” 
“ Silence, Cadet ! don’t be a fool ! ” replied Bigot, im- 
patiently, although in the Intendant’s usual mood, nothing 
too gross or too bad could be said in his presence but he 
could cap it with something worse. 

“ Fool, Bigot ! It is you who have been the fool of a 
woman !” Cadet was privileged to say anything, and he 
never stinted his speech. ‘‘ Confess, your Excellency ! 
she is splay footed as St. Pedauque of Dijon ! She dare 
not trip over our carpet for fear of showing her big feet ! ” 
Cadet’s coarse remark excited the mirth of the In- 
tendant. The influences of the great Hall were more 


CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN. 


75 


powerful than those of the secret chamber. He replied 
curtly, however — “ I have excused the lady from coming, 
Cadet. She is ill, or she does not please to come — or she 
has a private fancy of her own to nurse ; any reason is 
enough to excuse a lady, or for a gentleman to cease pres- 
sing her.” 

“ Dear me ! ” muttered Cadet, the wind blows fresh 
from a new quarter ! It is easterly, and betokens a 
storm ! ” and with drunken gravity he commenced singing 
a hunting refrain of Louis XIV. : — 

“ Sitot qu’il voit sa Chien 
II quitte tout pour ellene,” 


. Bigot burst out into immoderate laughter. “ Cadet,” 
said he, ‘‘ you are, when drunk, the greatest ruffian in 
Christendom, and the biggest knave when sober. Let the 
lady sleep in peace, while we drink ourselves blind in her 
honor. Bring in brandy, valets ! and we will not look foi 
dav until midnight booms on the old clock of the Cha- 
teau.” 

The loud knocking of Philibert in the great Hall rever- 
berated again and again through the house. Bigot bade 
the valets go see who disturbed the Chateau in that bold 
style. 

‘‘ Let no one in ! ” added he — tis against the rule to 
open the doors when the Grand Company are met for busi- 
ness ! Take whips, valets ! and scourge the insolent beg- 
gars away. Some miserable habitans I warrant, whining 
for the loss of their eggs and bacon taken by the king's pur- 
veyors ! ” 

A servant returned with a card on a silver salver. ‘‘ An 
officer in uniform waits to see your Excellency ; he brings 
orders from the Governor,” said he to the Intendant. 

Bigot looked at the card, with knitted brows, fire 
sparkled in his eyes as he read the name. 

‘^Colonel Philibert ! ” exclaimed he, “ Aid-de-Camp of 
the Governor ! what the fiend brings him at such a 
time? Do you hear ?” continued he, turning to Varin. 
“ It is your friend from Louisbourg, who was going to put 
you in irons, and send you to France for trial, when the 
mutinous garrison threatened to surrender the place if we 
did not pay them.” 

Varin was not so intoxicated but the name of Philibert 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


76 

roused his anger. He set his cup down with a bang upon 
the table. I will not taste a drop more till he is gone/’ 
said he ; curse Galissoni^re’s crooked neck — could he not 
have selected a more welcome messenger to send to Beau- 
manoir ? But I have got his name in my list of debtors, 
and he shall pay up one day for his insolence at Louis- 
bourg.” 

Tut, tut, shut up your books ; you are too mercantile 
for gentlemen,” replied Bigot. ‘‘ The question is, shall we 
allow Colonel Philibert to bring his orders into the Hall ? 
Par Dieu ! we are scarcely presentable ! ” 

But whether presentable or no, the words were scarcely 
spoken when, impatient at the delay, Philibert took ad- 
vantage of the open door and entered the great Hall. 
He stood in utter amazement for a moment at the scene 
of drunken riot which he beheld. The inflamed faces, the 
confusion of tongues, the disorder, filth and stench of the 
prolonged debauch sickened him, while the sight of so 
many men of rank and high office revelling at such an 
hour, raised a feeling of indignation which he had diffi- 
culty in keeping down, while he delivered his message to 
the Intendant. 

Bigot, however, was too shrewd to be wanting in polite- 
ness. ‘‘ Welcome Colonel Philibert,” said he ; “ you are an 
unexpected guest, but a welcome one ! come and taste the 
hospitality of Beaumanoir before you deliver your message. 
Bustle, valets, bring fresh cups and the fullest carafes for 
Colonel Philibert.” 

‘‘ Thanks for your politeness, Chevalier ! Your Ex- 
cellency will please excuse me if I deliver my message at 
once. My time is not my own to-day, so I will not sit 
down. His Excellency the Governor desires your presence 
and that of the royal Commissaries at the council of war 
this afternoon, despatches have just arrived by the Fleur 
de Lys from home, and the council must assemble at 
once.” 

A red flush rested upon the brow of Philibert as in his 
mind he measured the important business of the council 
with the fitness of the men whom he summoned to at- 
tend it. He declined the offer of wine and stepped back- 
ward from the table, with a bow to the Intendant and the 
company and was about to depart, when a loud voice on 
the further side of the table cried out : 


CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN 


77 


It is he, by all that is sacred ! Pierre Philibert I 
wait ! Le Gardeur de Repentigny rushed like a storm 
through the hall, upsetting chairs and guests in his advance. 
He ran towards Colonel Philibert who not recognizing the 
flushed face, and disordered figure that greeted him shrank 
back from his embrace. 

“ My God ! do you not know me, Pierre ? ’’ exclaimed Le 
Gardeur, wounded to the quick by the astonished look of 
his friend. “ I am Le Gardeur de Repentigny ! Oh, dear 
friend, look and recognize me ! 

Philbert stood transfixed with surprise and pain as* if an 
arrow had stricken his eyes. ‘‘ You ? you } Le Gardeur 
de Repentigny ? It is impossible ! Le Gardeur never 
looked like you, much less, was ever found among peo- 
ple like these ! ’’ The last words were rashly spoken, 
but fortunately not heard amid the hubbub in the hall, or 
Philibert’s life might have paid the penalty from the ex- 
cited guests. 

“ And yet it is true, Pierre, look at me again. I am no 
other than he whom you drew out of the St. Lawrence, the 
only brother of Amelie ! ” 

Philibert looked hard in the eyes of Le Gardeur, and 
doubted no longer. He pressed his old friend to his heart, 
saying in a voice full of pathos : — 

“ Oh, Le Gardeur ! I recognize you now, but under 
what change of look and place ? Often have I forecast 
our meeting again, but it was in your pure, virtuous home 
of Tilly, not in this place. What do you here Le Gar- 
deur?” 

“ Forgive me, Pierre, for the shame of meeting me here,” 
Le Gardeur stood up like a new man in the glance of his 
friend ; the shock seemed to have sobered him at once. 
‘‘ ‘ What do I here ? ’ say you, oh, dear friend ! ” said he, glanc- 
ing round the hall, ‘‘ it is easier seen than told what I do 
here. But by all the Saints I have finished here for to-day ! 
You return to the city at once, Pierre ? ” 

“ At once, Le Gardeur. The Governor awaits my re- 
turn.” 

“ Then I will return with you. My dear aunt and sis- 
ter are in the city. News of their arrival reached me here, 
my duty was to return at once, but the Intendant’s wine- 
cups were too potent for me ; curse them, for they have dis- 
graced me in your eyes, Pierre, as well as my own ! ” 


78 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


Philibert started at the information that Amelie was in 
the city. ‘‘ Amelie in the city ? ’’ repeated he with -glad sur- 
prise, ‘‘ I did not expect to be able to salute her and the 
noble Lady de Tilly so soon.’’ His heart bounded in 
secret at the prospect of again seeing this fair girl who had 
filled his thoughts for so many years, and been the se- 
cret spring of so much that was noble and manly in his 
character. 

‘‘ Come, Le Gardeur, let us take leave of the Intendant, 
and return at once to the city, but not in that plight ! ” 
added he smiling as Le Gardeur, oblivious of all but the 
pleasure of accompanying him, had grasped his arm to 
leave the great Hall. ‘‘ Not in that garb, Le Gardeur ! 
Bathe, purify, and clean yourself, I will wait outside in the 
fresh air. The odor of this room stifles me ! ” 

“You are not going to leave us, Le Gardeur!” Varin 
called across the table, “ and break up good company 
Wait till we finish a few more rounds and we will all go 
together.” 

“ I have finished all the rounds for to-day, Varin, may 
be for ever ! Colonel Philibert is my dearest friend in life, 
I must leave even you to go with him, so pray excuse me.” 

“ You are excused, Le Gardeur.” Bigot spoke very 
courteously to him, much as he disliked the idea of his 
companionship with Philibert. “ We must all return by 
the time the Cathedral bells chime noon. Take one part- 
ing cup before you go Le Gardeur, and prevail on Colonel 
Philibert to do the same, or he will not praise our hospi- 
tality, I fear.” 

“ Not one drop more this day, were it from Jove’s own 
poculum.” Le Gardeur repelled the temptation more readily 
as he felt a twitch on his sleeve from the hand of Philibert. 

“ Well, as you will, Le Gardeur, we have all had enough 
and over I dare say, ha I ha ! Colonel Philibert rather puts 
us to the blush, or would do, were not our cheeks so well 
painted in the hues of rosy Bacchus.” 

Philibert, with official courtesy, bade adieu to the Inten- 
dant and the company. A couple of valets waited upon 
Le Gardeur, whom they assisted to bathe and dress. In 
a short time he left the Chateau almost sobered and wholly 
metamorphosed into a handsome fresh Chevalier. A per- 
verse redness about the eyes alone remained to tell the tale 
of the last night’s debauch. 


CAROLIISrE DE ST, CAST/JV, 


79 


Master Pothier sat on a horse-block at the door with 
all the gravity of a judge, while he waited for the return of 
Colonel Philibert and listened to the lively noise in the 
Chateau, the music, song, and jingle of glass forming a 
sweet concert in the ears of the jolly old notary. 

‘‘ I shall not need you to guide me back. Master Poth- 
ier,’’ said Philibert, as he put some silver pieces in his 
hollow palm, take your fee. The cause is gained, is it 
not, Le Gardeur ? ” He glanced triumphantly at his 
friend. 

“ Good-bye, Master Pothier,” said he as he rode off with 
Le Gardeur. The old notary could not keep up with them 
but came jolting on behind, well pleased to have leisure to 
count and jingle his coins. Master Pothier was in that 
state of joyful anticipation, when hope outruns realization. 
He already saw himself seated in the old arm-chair in the 
snug parlor of Dame Bedard’s inn, his back to the fire, 
his belly to the table, a smoking dish of roast in the mid- 
dle, an ample trencher before him with a bottle of Cognac 
on one flank, and a jug of Norman cider on the other, an 
old crony or two to eat and drink with him, and the light 
foot and deft hand of pretty Zoe Bedard to wait upon them. 

This picture of perfect bliss floated before the winking 
eyes of Master Pothier, and his mouth watered in anticipa- 
tion of his Eden, not of flowers and trees, but of tables, 
cups, and platters, with plenty to fill them, and to empt/ 
them as well. 

“ A worthy gentleman and a brave officer, I warrant ! ” 
said Pothier as he jogged along. “ He is generous as a 
prince, and considerate as a bishop, fit for a judge, nay, for 
a chief justice ! What would you do for him. Master 
Pothier ? ” the old notary asked himself. I answer the 
interrogatory of the Court ! I would draw up his marriage 
contract, write his last will and testament with the greatest 
of pleasure and without a fee ! And no notary in New France 
could do more for him ! ” Pothier’s imagination fell into a 
vision over a consideration of his favorite text, that of the 
great sheet, wherein was all manner of flesh and fowl good 
for food, but the tongue of the old notary would trip at the 
name of Peter, and perversely say “ rise, Pothier, kill and 
eat.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


PIERRE PHILIBERT 

Colonel Philibert and Le Gardeur rode rapidly 
through the forest of Beaumanoir, pulling up occasionally in 
an eager and sympathetic exchange of questions and replies, 
as they recounted the events of their lives since their 
separation, or recalled their school days and glorious holi- 
days and rambles in the woods of Tilly — with frequent 
mention of their gentle, fair companion, Amelie De Repen- 
tigny, whose name on the lips of her brother sounded 
sweeter than the chime of the bells of Charlebourg to the 
ear of Pierre Philibert. 

The bravest man in New France felt a tremor in his 
breast as he asked Le Gardeur a seemingly careless ques- 
tion — seemingly, for, in truth, it was vital in the last degree 
to his happiness, and he knew it. He expressed a fear 
that Amelie would have wholly forgotten him after so long 
an absence from New France. 

His heart almost ceased beating as he waited the reply 
of Le Gardeur, which came impetuously : Forgotten you, 
Pierre Philibert? She would forget me as soon ! But for 
you she would have had no brother to-day, and in her 
prayers she ever remembers both of us ; you by right of a 
sister’s gratitude, me because I am unworthy of her saintly 
prayers, and need them all the more ! Oh ! Pierre Phili- 
bert, you do not know Aruelie if you think she is one ever 
to forget a friend like you ! 

The heart of Philibert gave a great leap for joy. Too 
happy for speech, he rode on a while in silence. 

Amelie will have changed much in appearance ? ” he 
asked at last. A thousand questions were crowding upon 
his lips. 

Changed ? O, yes ! ” replied Le Gardeur gaily. ‘‘ I 
scarcely recognize my little bright-eyed sister in the tall, 
perfect young lady that has taken her place, But the 
loving heart, the pure mind, the gentle ways, and winning 
smiles are the same as eyer, She is somewhat more still 


PIERRE PHILIBERT. 


8i 


and thoughtful, perhaps — more strict in the observances 
of religion ; you will remember, I used to call her in 
jest our St. Amelie — I might call her that in earnest now, 
Pierre, and she would be worthy of the name ! ’’ 

“ God bless you, Le Gardeur ! ’’ burst out Colonel 
Philibert — his voice could not repress the emotion he felt 
— “ and God bless Amelie ! Think you she would care 
to see me to-day, Le Gardeur ” Philibert’s thoughts flew 
far and fast, and his desire to know more of Amelie was a 
rack of suspense to him. She might, indeed, recollect the 
youth, Pierre Philibert, thought he, as she did a sunbeam 
that gladdened long past summers ; but how could he 
expect her to regard him — the full-grown man — ^as the 
same? Nay, was he not nursing a fatal fancy in his breast 
that would sting him to death ? for among the gay 
and gallant throng about the capital was it not more 
than possible — that so lovely and amiable a woman had 
already been wooed, and given the priceless treasure of 
her love to another? It was, therefore, with no common 
feeling that Philibert said, “Think you she will care to see 
me to-day, Le Gardeur ? ” 

“ Care to see you, Pierre Philibert ? What a ques- 
tion ! She’ and Aunt De Tilly take every occasion to 
remind me of you, by way of example, to shame me of my 
faults — and they succeed, too ! I could cut off my right 
hand this moment, Pierre, that it should never lift wine 
again to my lips ; and to have been seen by you in such 
company ! What must you think of me ? ” 

“ I think your regret could not surpass mine. But tell 
me how you have been drawn into these rapids, and taken 
the wrong turn, Le Gardeur ?” 

Le Gardeur winced as he replied, “ Oh, I do not know. 
I found myself there before I thought. It was the wit, 
wine and enchantments of Bigot, I suppose, and the 
greatest temptation of all — a woman’s smiles — that led me 
to take the wrong turn, as you call it. There — -you have 
my confession ! — and I would put my sword through any 
man but you, Pierre, who dared ask me to give such an 
account of myself. I am ashamed of it all Pierre Phili- 
bert, ! ’ 

“ Thanks, Le Gardeur, for your confidence. I hope 
you will outride this storm ! ” He held out his hand, 
nervous and sinewy as that of Mars. Le Gardeur seized 

6 


82 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


it and pressed it hard in his. “ Don’t you think it is still 
able to rescue a friend from peril ” added Philibert smil- 
ing. 

Le Gardeur caught his meaning, and gave him a look 
of unutterable gratitude. “ Beside this hand of mine are 
there not the gentler hands of Amelie to intercede for you 
with your better self,” said Philibert. 

“ My dear sister ! ” interjected Le Gardeur. “ I am a 
coward when I think of her, and I shame to come into her 
pure presence.” 

‘‘Take courage, Le Gardeur! There is hope where 
there is shame of our faults. Be equally frank with your 
sister 'as with me, and she will win you in spite of your- 
self from the enchantments of Bigot, Cadet, and the still 
more potent smiles you speak of that led you to take the 
wrong turn in life.” 

“ I doubt it is too late, Pierre ! although I know that, 
were every other friend in the world to forsake me, Amelie 
would not ! She would not even reproach me, except by 
excess of affection.” 

Philibert looked on his friend admiringly, at this pane- 
gyric of the woman he loved. Le Gardeur was in feature 
so like his sister that Philibert at the moment caught the 
very face of Amelie, as it were, looking at him through the 
face of her brother. “You will not resist her pleadings, 
Le Gardeur.” — Philibert thought it an impossible thing. 
“ No guardian angel ever clung to the skirts of a sinner as 
Amelie will cling to you,” said he ; “ therefore I have 
every hope of my dear friend Le Gardeur de Repentigny.” 

The two riders emerged from the forest and drew up 
for a minute in front of the hostelry of the Crown of 
France, to water their horses at the long trough before the 
door, and inform Dame Bedard, who ran out to greet 
them, that Master Pothier was following with his ambling 
nag at a gentle pace, as befitted the gravity of his pro- 
fession. 

“ O I Master Pothier never fails to find his way to the 
Crown of France ; but won’t your honors take a cup of 
wine ? The day is hot and the road dusty. ‘ A dry rider 
makes a wet nag,’ ” added the Dame, with a smile, as she 
repeated an old saying, brought over with the rest of the 
hutin in the ships of Cartier and Champlain. 

The gentlemen bowed their thanks, and as Philibert 


PIERRE PHILIBERT. 


83 

looked up, he saw pretty Zoe Bedard poring over a sheet of 
paper bearing a red seal, and spelling out the crabbed law 
text of Master Pothier. Zoe, like other girls of her class, 
had received a tincture of learning in the day schools of 
the nuns ; but, although the paper was her marriage con- 
tract, it puzzled her greatly to pick out the few chips of 
plain sense that floated in the sea of legal verbiage it con- 
tained. Zoe, with a perfect comprehension of the claims 
of meu7n and tiium., was at no loss, however, in arriving at 
a satisfactory solution of the true merits of her matrimonial 
contract with honest Jean La Chance. 

She caught the eye of Philibert, and blushed to the 
very chin as she huddled away the paper and returned 
the salute of the two handsome gentlemen, who, having 
refreshed their horses, rode off at a rapid trot down the 
great highway that led to the city.* 

Babet Le Nocher, in a new gown, short enough to 
reveal a pair of shapely ankles in clocked stockings, and 
well clad feet, that would have been the envy of many a 
Duchess, sat on the thwart of the boat knitting. Her 
black hair was in the fashion recorded by the grave Peter 
Kahn, who, in his account of New France, says, “ The 
peasant women all wear their hair in ringlets, and nice they 
look ! ” 

“ As I live ! ’’ exclaimed she to Jean, who was enjoying 
a pipe of native tobacco, “ here comes that handsome 
officer back again, and in as great a hurry to return as he 
was to go up the highway ! ” 

“ Aye, aye, Babet ! It is plain to see he is either on 
the King’s errand or his own. A fair lady awaits his 
return in the city, or one has just dismissed him where he 
has been ! Nothing like a woman to put quicksilver in a 
man’s shoes — eh ! Babet? !’ 

“ Or foolish thoughts into their hearts, Jean ! ” replied 
she, laughing. 

“ And nothing more natural, Babet, if women’s hearts 
are wise enough in their fplly to like our foolish thoughts 
of them. But there are two ! Who is that riding with the 
gentleman ? Your eyes are better than mine, Babet ! ” 

“ Of course, Jean ! that is what I always .tell you, but 
you won’t believe me — trust my eyes, and doubt your own ! 
The other gentleman,” said she, looking fixedly, while her 
knitting lay still in her lap, “ the other is the young 


84 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


Chevalier de Repentigny. What brings him back before 
the rest of the hunting party, I wonder ? 

‘‘ That officer must have been to Beaumanoir, and is 
bringing the young Seigneur back to town,” remarked 
Jean, puffing out a long thread of smoke from his lips. 

“ Well, it must be something better than smoke, Jean ! ” 
— Babet coughed ; she never liked the pipe. — ‘‘The young 
Chevalier is always one of the last to give up when they 
have one of their three-days drinking bouts up at the 
Chateau. He is going to the bad, I fear — more’s the pity ! 
Such a nice, handsome fellow, too ! ” 

“ All lies and calumny ! ” replied Jean, in a heat, 
“ Le Gardeur de Repentigny is the son of my dear old 
Seigneur. He may get drunk, but it will be like a gentle- 
man if he does, and not like a carter, Babet, or like a — ” 

“Boatman! Jean; but I don’t include you — ^you have 
never been the worse for drinking water since I took care 
of your liquor, Jean I ” 

“ Aye, you are intoxication enough of yourself for me, 
Babet. Two bright eyes like yours, a pipe and bitters, 
with grace before meat, would save any Christian man in 
this world.” Jean stood up politely doffing his red tuque 
to the gentlemen. Le Gardeur stooped from his horse to 
grasp his hand, for Jean had been an old servitor at Tilly, 
and the young Seigneur was too noble-minded and polite 
to omit a kindly notice of even the humblest of his ac- 
quaintance. 

“ Had a busy day, Jean, with the old ferry.? ” asked Le 
Gardeur cheerily. 

“No, your honor, but yesterday I think half the country 
side crossed over to the city on the King’s Corve'e. The 
men went to work, and the women followed to look after 
them, ha! ha!” Jean winked provokingly at Babet, who 
took him up sharply. 

“ And why should not the women go after the men ? 
I trow men are not so plentiful in New France as they used 
to be before this weary war began. It well behoves the 
women to take good care of all that are left.” 

“That is true as the Sunday sermon,” remarked Jean. 
“ Why, it was only the other day I heard that great foreign 
gentleman, who is the guest of his Excellency the Governor, 
say, sitting in this very boat, ‘ that there are at this time 
four women to every man in New France ! ’ If that is true, 


PIERRE PHILIBERT. 


8S 

Babet — and you know he said it, for you were angry enough 
— a man is a prize indeed, in New France, and women are 
plenty as eggs at Easter ! ” 

‘‘ The foreign gentleman had much assurance to say it 
even if it were true. He were much better employed 
picking up weeds and putting them in his book ! ’’ exclaim- 
ed Babet, hotly. 

‘‘ Come ! come ! ’’ cried Le Gardeur, interrupting this 
debate on the population — Providence knows the worth 
of Canadian women, and cannot give us too many of them. 
We are in a hurry to get to the city, Jean, so let us embark. 
My Aunt and Amelie are in the old home in the city, they 
will be glad to see you and Babet,’’ added he kindly as he 
got into the boat. 

Babet dropped her neatest courtesy, and Jean, all alive 
to his duty, pushed off his boat bearing the two gentlemen 
and their horses, across the broad St. Charles, to the King’s 
Quay, where they remounted, and riding past the huge pal- 
ace of the Intendant, dashed up the steep Cote an Chien and 
through the City gate, disappearing from the eyes of Babet, 
who looked very admiringly after them. Her thoughts were 
especially commendatory of the handsome officer in full 
uniform, who had been so polite and generousin the morning. 

I was afraid, Jean, you were going to blurt out about 
Mademoiselle des Meloises,” remarked Babet to Jean on 
his return — men are so indiscreet always.” 

Leaky boats ! leaky boats ! Babet ! no rowing them 
with a woman aboard ! sure to run on the bank. But what 
about Mademoiselle des Meloises ? ” Honest Jean had 
passed her over the ferry an hour ago, and been sorely 
tempted to inform Le Gardeur of the interesting fact. 

“What about Mademoiselle des Meloises ” Babet 
spoke rather sharply — “why, all Quebec knows that the 
Seigneur de Repentigny is mad in love with her.” 

“ And why should he not be mad in love with her if he 
likes ?” replied Jean — “ She is a morsel fit for a king, and 
if Le Gardeur should lose both his heart and his wits on 
her account, it is only what half the gallants of Quebec 
have done.” 

“ Oh, Jean, Jean ! it is plain to see you have an eye in 
your head, as well as a soft place ! ” ejaculated Babet, recom- 
mencing her knitting with fresh vigor, and working off the 
electricity that was stirring in her. 


86 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


“ I had two eyes in my head when I chose you, Babet, 
and the soft place was in my heart ! ’’ replied Jean heartily. 
The compliment was taken with a smile, as it deserved to 
be. “ Look you, Babet, I would not give this pinch of snuff,’’ 
said Jean, raising his thumb and two fingers holding a good 
dose of the pungent dust — ‘‘ I would hot give this pinch of 
snuff for any young fellow, who could be indifferent to the 
charms of such a pretty lass as Angelique des Meloises ! ” 
“ Well, I am glad you did not tell the Seigneur de Re- 
pentigny, that she had crossed the ferry and gone — not 
to look for him. I’ll be bound ! I will tell you some- 
thing by and by, Jean ! if you will come in and eat your 
dinner, I have something you like.” 

‘‘What is it, Babet ?” Jean was after all more curious 
about his dinner than about the fair lady. 

“ Oh, something you like, — that is a wife’s secret, keep 
the stomach of a man warm and liis heart will never grow 
cold, — what say you to fried eels ? ” 

“ Bravo ! ” cried the gay old boatman, as he sang : 

‘‘ Ah ! ah ! ah ! frit a I’huile. 

Frit au beurre et a Tognon 1” 

and the jolly couple danced into their* little cottage — no 
king and queen in Christendom half so happy as they. 


CHAPTER X. 

AMELIE DE REPENTIGNY. 

The town house of the Lady de Tilly stood on the upper 
part of the Place d’Armes, a broad roughly paved square. 
The Chateau of St. Louis, with its massive buildings and 
high peaked roofs filled one side of the square. On the 
other side, embowered in ancient trees that had escaped 
the axe of Champlain’s hardy followers, stood the old fash- 
ioned monastery of the Recollets with its high belfry, and 
broad shady porch, where the monks in grey gowns and 
sandals sat in summer, reading their breviaries or exchang- 
ing salutations with the passers by, who always had a kind 
greeting for the brothers of St. Francis. 


AMELIE DE REPENTIGNY, 87 

The mansion of the Lady de Tilly was of stone, spacious 
and ornate, as became the rank and wealth of the Seigneurs 
de Tilly. It overlooked the Place d’Armes, and the noble 
gardens of the Chateau of St. Louis, with a magnificent 
sweep of the St. Lawrence, flowing majestically under the 
fortress-crowned cape, upon the high wooded hills of Lau- 
zon, the farther side of the river closing the view. 

In the recess of an ornate mullioned window, half con 
cealed by the rich heavy curtains of a noble room, Amelie 
de Repentigny sat alone ; very quiet in look and demeanor, 
but no little agitated in mind, as might be noticed in the 
nervous contact of her hands, which lay in her lap clasping 
each other very hard, as if trying to steady her thoughts. 

Her aunt was receiving some lady visitors in the 
great drawing-room. The hum of loud feminine voices 
reached the ear of Amelie, but she paid no atten- 
tion, so absorbed was she in the new and strange 
thoughts that had stirred in her mind since morning, when 
she had learned from the Chevalier La Come of the return 
to New France of Pierre Philibert. The news had sur- 
prised her to a degree she could not account for. Her first 
thought was, how fortunate for her brother that Pierre had 
returned; her second, how agreeable to herself. Why? 
She could not think why. She wilfully drew an inference 
away from the truth that lay in her heart. It was wholly 
for sake of her brother she rejoiced in the return of his 
friend and preserver. Her heart beat a little faster than 
usual, that was the result of her long walk and disappoint- 
ment at not meeting Le Gardeur on her arrival yesterday. 
But she feared to explore her thoughts — a rigid self exam- 
ination might discover what she instinctively felt was deeply 
concealed there. 

A subtle indefinable prevision had suggested to her that 
Colonel Philibert would not have failed to meet Le Gardeur 
at Beaumanoir, and that he would undoubtedly accompany 
her brother on his return and call to pay his respects to the 
Lady de Tilly, and — to herself. She felt her cheek glow 
at the thought, yet was half vexed at her own foolish fancy, 
as she called it. She tried to call upon her pride, but 
that came very laggardly to the relief of her discomposure. 

Her interview too with Angelique des Meloises had 
caused her no little disquiet. The bold avowals of Ange- 
lique with reference to the Intendant had shocked Amelie. 


88 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


She knew that her brother had given more of his thoughts 
to this beautiful, reckless girl than was good for his peace, 
should her ambition ever run counter to his love. 

The fond sister sighed deeply when she reflected that 
the woman who had power to make prize of Le Gardeur’s 
love, was not worthy of him. 

It is no rare thing for loving sisters, who have to resign 
their brothers to others’ keeping, to think so. But Ame- 
lie knew that Angel ique des Meloises, was incapable of 
that true love, which only finds its own in the happiness 
of another. She was vain, selfish, ambitious, and what 
Amelie did not yet know, possessed of neither scruple nor 
delicacy in attaining her objects. 

It had chimed the hour of noon upon the old clock of 
the Recollets, and Amelie still sat looking wistfully over 
the great square of the Place d’Armes, and curiously scan- 
ning every horseman that rode across it. A throng of 
people moved about the square, or passed in and out of 
the great arched gate-way of the Castle of St. Louis. A 
bright shield, bearing the crown and Jleur de lys^ surmount- 
ed the gate, and under it walked, with military pace, a 
couple of sentries, their muskets and bayonets flashing out 
in the sun every time they wheeled to return on their beat. 
Occasionally there was a ruffle of drums ; the whole guard 
turned out and presented arms, as some officer of high 
rank, or ecclesiastical dignitary, passed through to pay their 
respects to the Governor, or transact business at the vice- 
regal court. Gentlemen on foot, with chapeaux and swords, 
carrying a cloak on their shoulders ; ladies in visiting 
dress ; habitans and their wives in unchanging costume ; 
soldiers in uniform, and black gowned clergy, mingled in a 
moving picture of city life, which, had not Amelie’s 
thoughts been so pre-occupiecl to-day, would have afforded 
her great delight to look out upon. 

The Lady de Tilly had rather wearied of the visit of 
the two ladies of the city, Madame de Grandmaison, and 
Madame Couillard, who had bored her with all the current 
gossip of the day. They were rich and fashionable, per- 
fect in etiquette, costume, and most particular in their soci- 
ety. But the rank and position of the noble Lady de 
Tilly made her friendship most desirable, as it conferred 
in the eyes of the world a patent of gentility, which held 
good against every pretension to overtop it. 


AMELIE DE REPENTIGNY, 


89 

The stream of city talk, from the lips of the two ladies, 
had the merit of being perfect of its kind. Softly insinu- 
ating, and sweetly censorious, superlative in eulogy, and in- 
fallible in opinion. The good visitors most conscientious- 
ly discharged what they deemed a great moral and social 
duty, by enlightening the Lady de Tilly on all the recent 
lapses, and secrets of the capital. They slid over slippery 
topics like skaters on thin ice, filling their listener with 
anxiety lest they should break through. But Madame de 
Grandmaison and her companion were too well exercised 
in the gymnastics of gossip, to overbalance themselves. 
Half Quebec was run over, and run down in the course 
of an hour. 

Lady de Tilly listened with growing impatience to their 
frivolities, but she knew society too well to quarrel with its 
follies when it was of no service to do so. She contented 
herself with hoping it was not so bad. The Pope was not 
Catholic enough to suit some people ; but for her part, she 
had generally found people better than they were called. 

A rather loud, but well bred exclamation of Madame 
de Grandmaison, roused Amelie from her day dream. 

“Not going to the Intendant’s ball at the Palace! 
My Lady de Tilly I neither you nor Mademoiselle de Re- 
pentigny, whom we are so sorry not to have seen to-day ? 
Why, it is to be the most magnificent affair ever got up in 
New France. All Quebec has rung with nothing else for 
a fortnight, ‘and every milliner and modiste in the city 
has gone almost insane over the superlative costumes to be 
worn there.’’ 

“ And it is to be the most select in its character,” chimed 
in Madame Couillard ; “ all gentry and noblesse, not one of 
the Bourgeois to be invited. That class, especially the fe- 
male portion of them, give themselves such airs now-a- 
days 1 As if their money made them company for people 
of quality. They must be kept down, I say, or — ” 

“ And the Royal Intendant quite agrees with the gene- 
ral sentiment of the higher circles,” responded Madame de 
Grandmaison. “ He is for keeping down — ” 

“ Noblesse ! Noblesse I ” The Lady de Tilly spoke 
with visible impatience. “Who is this Royal Intendant, 
who dares cast a slight upon the worthy, honest. Bourgeoisie 
of this city ? Is he noble himself ? Not that I would think 
worse of him, were he not, but I have heard it disputed. 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


90 

He is the last one who should venture to scorn the Bour- 
geoisie/’ 

Madame de Grandmaison fanned herself in a very 
stately manner. “ O my Lady, you surely forget ! The 
Chevalier Bigot is a not distant relative of the Count de 
Marville, and the Chevalier de Grandmaison is a constant 
visitor at the Intendant’s ! But he would not have sat at 
his table an hour, had he not known that he was connected 
with the nobility. The Count de Marville — ” 

The Count de Marville ! ” interrupted the Lady de Tilly, 
whose politeness almost gave way. “ Truly a man is known 
by the company he keeps. No credit to any one to be 
connected with the Count de Marville.” 

Madame de Grandmaison felt father subdued. She 
perceived that the Lady de Tilly was not favorably impress- 
ed towards the Intendant. But she tried again. And then 
my Lady, the Intendant is so powerful at Court. He was 
a particular friend of Madame D’Etioles, before she was 
known at Court, and they say he managed her introduction 
to the King, at the famous masked ball at the Hotel de 
Ville, when His Majesty threw his handkerchief at her, and 
she became first dame dii palais^ and the Marquise de Pompa- 
dour. She has ever remained his firm friend, and in spite 
of all his enemies could do to prevent it. His Majesty 
made him Intendant of New France.” 

“ In spite of all the King’s friends could do, you mean,” 
replied the Lady de Tilly in a tone, the sound of which 
caught the ear of Amelie, and she knew her aunt was 
losing patience with her visitors. Lady de Tilly heard the 
name of the Royal minister with intense disgust, but her 
innate loyalty prevented her speaking disparagingly of the 
King. We will not discuss the court, said she, nor the 
friendships of this Intendant. I can only pray, his future 
may make amends for his past. I trust New France may 
not have as much reason as poor lost Acadia, to lament 
the day of his coming to the colonies.” 

The two lady vistors were not obtuse. They saw they 
had roused the susceptibilities (prejudices they called them) 
of the Lady de Tilly. They rose, and smothering their 
disappointment under well bred phrases, took most polite 
leave of the dignified old lady, who was heartily glad to be 
rid of them. 

“ The disagreeable old thing ! to talk so of the Intend- 


AMELIE DE REPENTIGNY. 


91 


ant ! ’’ exclaimed Madame Couillard, spitefully. When 
her own nephew, and heir in the Seigneury of Tilly, is the 
Intendanfs firmest friend and closest companion.” 

‘‘Yes, she forgot about her own house, people always 
forget to look at home, when they pass judgment upon 
their neighbors,” replied Madame de Grandmaison. “ But 
I am mistaken, if she will be able to impress Le Gardeur 
de Repentigny with her uncharitable, and unfashionable 
opinions of the Intendant. I hope the ball will be the 
greatest social success ever seen in the city, just to Vex her 
and her niece, who is as proud and particular as she is 
herself.” 

Amelie de Repentigny had dressed herself, to-day, in a 
robe of soft muslin of Deccan; the gift of a relative in 
Pondicherry. It enveloped her exquisite form, without 
concealing the grace and lissomness of her movements. A 
broad blue ribbon round her waist, and in her dark hair a 
blue flower, were all her adornments, except a chain and 
cross of gold, which lay upon her bosom, the rich gift of her 
brother, and often kissed with a silent prayer for his welfare 
and happiness. More than once, under the influence of some 
indefinable impulse, she rose and went to the mirror, com- 
paring her features now with a portrait of herself, taken 
as a young girl in the garb of a shepherdess of Provence. 
Her father used to like that picture of her, and to please 
him, she often wore her hair in the fashion of Provence. 
She did so to-day. Why? The subtle thought in many 
protean shapes played before her fancy, but she would not 
try to catch it. No ! rather shyly avoided its examination. 

She was quite restless, and sat down again in the deep 
recess of the window, watching the Place d’ Armes for the 
appearance of her brother. 

She gave a sudden start at last, as a couple of officers 
galloped into the square, and rode towards the great gate 
of the Chateau, one of them she instantly recognized as 
her brother, the other, a tall martial figure in full uniform, 
upon a fiery grey, she did not recognize, but she knew in 
her heart, it could be no other than Colonel Philibert. 

Amdie felt a thrill, almost painful in its pleasure, agi- 
tating her bosom, as she sat watching the gateway they had 
entered. It was even a momentary relief to her, that they 
had turned in there, instead of riding directly to the house. 
It gave her time to collect her thoughts, and summon up 


92 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


all her fortitude for the coming interview* Her fingers 
wandered down to the rosary in the folds of her dress, and 
the golden bead, which had so often prompted her prayer 
for the happiness of Pierre Philibert, seemed to burn to the 
touch. Her cheek crimsoned, for a strange thought sud- 
denly intruded — the boy Pierre Philibert, whose image and 
memory she had so long and innocently cherished, was now 
a man, a soldier, a councillor, trained in courts and camps ! 
How unmaidenly she had acted, forgeting all this in her 
childish prayers until this moment ! “ I meant no harm ! ’’ 

was all the defence she could think of. Nor had she time 
to think more of herself, for after remaining ten minutes 
in the Chateau, just long enough to see the Governor, and 
deliver the answer of the Intendant to his message, the 
grey charger emerged from the gate. His rider was accom- 
panied by her brother, and the well known figure of her 
godfather La Come St. Luc, who rode up the hill, and in 
a minute or two, dismounted at the door of the mansion 
of the Lady de Tilly. 

The fabled Lynx, whose eye penetrates the very earth 
to discover hidden treasure, did not cast a keener and 
more inquisitive glance than that which Amelie, shrouded 
behind the thick curtains, directed from the window at 
the tall, manly figure, and handsome countenance of him 
whom she knew to be Pierre Philibert. Let it not detract 
from her that she gave way to an irresistible impulse of 
womanly curiosity. The Queen of France would, under the 
same temptation, have done the same thing, and perhaps 
without feeling half the modest shame of it that Amelie 
did, A glance sufficed ; but a glance that impressed upon 
her mind for ever the ineffaceable and perfect image of 
Pierre Philibert the man, who came in place of Pierre 
Philibert the boy friend of Le Gardeur and of herself. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE SOLDIER^S WELCOME. 

The voices of the gentlemen mingled with her aunt’s 
in eager greetings. She well knew which must be the 
voice of Colonel Philibert — the rest were all so familiar to 


THE SOLDIERS S WELCOME, 


93 


her ear. Suddenly footsteps ran up the grand stair, 
clearing three at a time. She waited, trembling with an- 
ticipation. Le Gardeur rushed into the room with out- 
stretched arms, embraced her, and kissed her in a trans- 
port of brotherly affection. 

“ Oh, Le Gardeur ! ” cried she, returning his kiss with 
fond affection, and looked in his face with tenderness and 
joy. O my brother, how I have prayed and longed for 
your coming. Thank God ! you are here at last. You 
are well, brother, are you not } ’’ said she, looking up with 
a glance that seemed to betray some anxiety. 

“ Never better, Amelie,’’ replied he, in a gayer tone 
than was quite natural to him, and shyly averting his eyes 
from her tender scrutiny. Never better. Why, if I had 
been in my grave I should have risen up to welcome a 
friend whom I have met to-day after years of separation. 
Oh, Amelie, I have such news for you : ” 

“News for me, Le Gardeur! What can it be?’^ A 
blush stole over her countenance, and her bosom heaved, 
for she was very conscious of the nature of the news her 
brother was about to impart. 

“ Guess ! you unsuspecting queen of shepherdesses,’’ 
cried he, archly twisting a lock of her hair that hung over 
her shoulder. “ Guess, you pretty gypsy, you I ” 

“ Guess ? How can I guess, Le Gardeur ? Can there 
be any news left in the city of Quebec after an hour’s visit 
from Madame de Grandmaison and Madame Couillard. 
I did not go down, but I know they inquired much after 
you, by the way 1 ” Amelie, with a little touch of feminine 
perversity, shyly put off the grand burst of Le Gardeur’s 
intelligence, knowing it was sure to come. 

“ Pshaw 1 who cares for tho*3e old scandal-mongers 1 
But you can never guess my news, Amelie, so I may as 
well tell you.” Le Gardeur fairly swelled with the an- 
nouncement he was about to make. 

“ Have mercy then, brother, and tell me at once, for 
you do now set my curiosity on tip-toe.” She was a true 
woman, and would not for anything .have admitted her 
knowledge of the presence of Colonel Philibert in the 
house. 

“Amelie,” said he, taking her by both hands, as if to 
prevent her escape, “ I was at Beaumanoir, you know 
The Intendant gave a grand hunting party,” added he, no- 


94 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


ticing the quick glance she gave him, ‘‘ and who do you 
think came to the Chtoau and recognized me, or rather I 
recognized him ? A stranger — and not such a stranger 
either, Amelie.’’ 

‘‘ Nay ; go on brother ! Who could this mysterious 
stranger and no stranger have been ? 

‘‘ Pierre Philibert ! Amelie ! Pierre — our Pierre, you 
know ! You recollect him, sister! ’’ 

‘‘ Recollect Pierre Philibert ? Why, how could I ever 
forget him while you are living ? since to him we are all 
indebted for your life, brother I 

“ I know that ; are you not glad, as I am, at his re- 
turn ? asked Le Gardeur, with a penetrating look. 

She threw her arms round him involuntarily, for she 
was much agitated. “Glad, brother? Yes, I am glad, 
because 3^ou are glad.’’ 

“No more than that, Amelie ? That is a small thing 
to be glad for.” 

“ Oh, brother I I am glad for gladness’ sake ! We can 
never overpay the debt of gratitude we owe Pierre Phili- 
bert.” 

“ O my sweet sister,” replied he, kissing her ; “ I knew 
my news would please you. Come, we will go down and 
see him at once, for Pierre is in the house.” 

“ But Le Gardeur ! ” She blushed and hesitated. “ Pierre 
Philibert I knew \ I could speak to him ; but I shall hardly 
dare recognize him in the stately soldier of to-day. Voilla 
la difference added she, repeating the refrain of a song 
very popular both in New France and in Old at that pe- 
riod. 

Le Gardeur did not comprehend her hesitation and 
tone. Said he : “ Pierre is wonderfully changed since he 
and I wore the green sash of the seminary. He is taller 
than I — wiser and better — he was always that ; but in 
heart the same generous, noble Pierre Philibert he was 
when a boy. Voilla la ressefnblance I added he pulling 
her hair archly as he repeated the antistrophe of the same 
ditty. 

Amelie gave her brother a fond look, but she did not 
reply, except by a tight pressure of the hand. The voices 
of the Chevalier La Come and the Lady de Tilly and 
Colonel Philibert were again heard in animated conversa- 
tion. “ Come brother, we will go now,” said she, and 


THE SOLDIEHS WELCOME. 


95 


quick in executing any resolution she had formed, she 
took the arm of her brother, swept with him down the 
broad stair, and entered the drawing room. 

• Philibert rose to his feet in admiration of the vision of 
loveliness that suddenly beamed upon his eyes. It was the 
incarnation of all the shapes of grace and beauty that had 
passed through his fervid fancy during so many years of 
absence from his native land. Something there was of 
the features of the young girl who had ridden with flying 
locks like a sprite, through the woods of Tilly. But com- 
paring his recollection of that slight girl with the tall, lithe, 
perfect womanhood of the half-blushing girl before him, he 
hesitated although intuitively aware that it could be no 
other than the idol of his heart, Amelie de Repentigny. 

Le Gardeur solved the doubt in a moment by exclaim- 
ing, in a tone of exultation, ‘‘ Pierre Philibert, I bring an 
old young friend to greet you — my sister.^’ 

Philibert advanced and Amelie raised her dark eyes 
with a momentary glance, that drew into her heart the mem- 
oxy of his face for ever. She held out her hand frankly 
and courteously. Philibert bent over it as reverently as 
he would over the hand of the Madonna. 

The greeting of the Lady de Tilly and La Come St. 
Luc had been cordial, nay, affectionate in its kindness. 
The good lady kissed Pierre as a mother might have done 
a long-absent son. 

“ Colonel Philibert,” said Amelie, straining her nerves 
to the tension of steel to preserve her composure ; Colonel 
Philibert is most welcome. He has never been forgotten 
in this house.” She glanced at her aunt, who smiled ap- 
provingly at Amelie’s remark. 

“ Thanks, Mademoiselle de Repentigny ; I am, indeed, 
happy to be remembered here. It fulfils one of my most 
cherished hopes in returning to my native land.” 

‘‘Aye, aye, Pierre,” interrupted La Come St. Luc, 
who looked on this little scene very admiringly, “ Good 
blood never lies. Look at Colonel Philibert there, with 
the King’s epaulets on his shoulders. I have a sharp eye 
as you know, Amelie, when I look after my pretty god- 
daughter; but I should not have recognized our lively 
Pierre in him had Le Gardeur not introduced him to 
me, and I think you would not have known him either.” 

“ Thanks for your looking after me, godfather,” replied 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


96 

Amelie, merrily, very grateful in her heart for his appre- 
ciation of Pierre, “ but I think neither aunt nor I should 
have failed to recognize him.’’ 

Right, my Amelie,” said the Lady de Tilly. “ We 
should not ! And we shall not be afraid, Pierre — I must 
call you Pierre or nothing — we shall not be afraid, although 
you do lay in a new stock of acquaintances in the capital, 
that old friends will be put aside as unfashionable rem- 
nants.” 

“ My whole stock of friendship consists of those rem- 
nants, my Lady — memories of dear friends I love and honor 
— they will never be unfashionable with me. I should be 
bankrupt indeed were I to part with one of them.” 

Then they are of a truer fabric than Penelope’s web, for 
she, I read, pulled in pieces at night what she had woven 
through the day,” replied Lady de Tilly, ‘‘give me the 
friendship that won’t unravel.” 

“ But not a thread of my recollections has ever unravel- 
ed or ever will,” replied Pierre looking at Amelie as she 
clasped the arm of her aunt, feeling stronger as is woman’s 
way by the contact with another. 

“ Zounds ! What is all this merchant’s talk about webs 
and threads and thrums,” exclaimed La Come. “ There 
is no memory so good as a soldier’s, Amelie, and reason 
good. A soldier on our wild frontiers is compelled to be 
faithful to old friends and old flannels. He cannot help 
himself to new ones if he would. I was five years and 
never saw a woman’s face except red ones, some of them 
were very comely by the way,” added the old warrior with 
a smile. 

“ The gallantry of the Chevalier La Come is incon- 
testable,” remarked Pierre, “ for once when we captured a 
convoy of soldiers’ wives from New England, he escorted 
them with drums beating to Grand Pre, and sent a cask of 
Gas9on wine for them to celebrate their reunion with their 
husbands.” 

“ Frowzy huzzies ! not worth the keeping, or I would 
not have sent them ; fit only for the bobtailed militia of 
New England ! ” exclaimed La Come. 

“ Not so, thought the New Englanders, who had a 
three-days feast when thej remarried their wives and hand- 
some they were too,” said Philibert. “The healths they 
drank to the Chevlier were enough to make him immortal.” 


THE SOLDIEHS WELCOME. 


97 


La Come always brushed aside compliments to himself. 

Tut my Lady ! it was more Pierre’s good nature than mine. 
He out of kindness let the women rejoin their husbands, 
on my part it was policy and stratagem of war. Hear the 
sequel 1 The wives spoiled the husbands as I guessed they 
would do, taught them to be too late at reveillee.^ too early 
at tatoo. They neglected guards and pickets, and when 
the long nights of winter set in, the men hugged their wives 
by the firesides instead of their muskets by their watch- 
fires. Then came destruction upon them ! In a blinding 
storm, amid snow-drifts and darkness, Coulon de Villiers, 
with his troops on snow-shoes, marched into the New Eng- 
land camp, and made widows of the most of the poor wives, 
who fell into our hands the second time. Poor creatures ! 
I saw that day how hard it was to be a soldier’s wife.” La 
Corne’s shaggy eyelash twinkled with moisture. “ But it 
was the fortune of war ! — the fortune of war, and a cruel 
fortune it is at the best ! ” 

The Lady de Tilly pressed her hand to her bosom to 
suppress the rising emotion. Alas ! Chevalier ! poor 
widows ! I feel all they suffered. War is indeed, a cruel 
fortune, as I too have had reason to learn.” 

“ And what became of the poor women, godfather ? ” 
Amelie’s eyes were suffused with tears. It was in her 
heart, if ever in any mortal, to love her enemies. 

Oh, we cared for them the best we could. The Baron 
de St. Castin sheltered them in his chateau for the winter, 
and his daughter devoted herself to them with the zeal and 
tenderness of a Saint from heaven. A noble, lovely girl 
Amelie ! ” added La Come, impressively. The fairest 
flower in all Acadia, and most unfortunate, poor girl ! 
God’s blessing rest upon her wherever she may be ! ” La 
Come St. Luc spoke with a depth of emotion he rarely 
manifested. 

‘‘ How was she unfortunate, godfather ? ” Philibert 
watched the cheek flush and the eyelid quiver of the fair 
girl as she spoke, carried away by her sympathy. His 
heart went with his looks. 

‘‘ Alas ! ” replied La Come, “ I would fain not answer, 
lest I distrust the moral government of the universe. But 
we are blind creatures, and God’s v/ays are not fashioned 
in our ways. Let no one boast that he stands, lest he fall ! 
We need the help of the Host of Heaven to keep us upright, 

7 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


98 

and maintain our integrity. I can scarcely think of that 
noble girl without tears. Oh, the pity of it ! The pity of 
it!’’ 

Lady de Tilly looked at him wonderingly, I knew the 
Baron de St. Castin,” said she. “ When he came to perform 
homage at the Castle of St. Louis, for the grant of some 
lands in Acadia, he was accompanied by his only daughter, 
a child perfect in goodness, grace, and loveliness. She was 
just the age of Amelie. The ladies of the city were in 
raptures over the pretty May-flower, as they called her. 
What in heaven’s name has happened to that dear child ? 
Chevalier La Come.” 

La Come St. Luc, half angry with himself for having 
broached the painful topic, and not used to pick his words 
replied bluntly. ‘‘ Happened, my Lady } What is it hap- 
pens worst to a woman ? She loved a man unworthy of her 
love — a villain in spite of high rank and King’s favor, who 
deceived this fond, confiding girl, and abandoned her to 
shame ! Faugh I It is the way of the Court, they say, and 
the King has not withdrawn his favor but heaped new 
honors upon him I ” La Come put a severe curb upon his 
utterance and turned impatiently away, lest he might curse 
the King as well as the favorite. 

‘‘ But what became of the poor deceived girl ? ” asked 
the Lady de Tilly, after hastily clearing her eyes with her 
handkerchief. 

“Oh, the old old story followed. She ran away from 
home in an agony of shame and fear, to avoid the return 
of her father from France. She went among the Indians 
of the St. Croix they say, and has not been heard of since. 
Poor, dear girl ! her very trust in virtue was the cause of 
her fall ! ” 

Amelie turned alternately pale and red at the recital 
of her godfather. She riveted her eyes upon the ground 
as she pressed close to her aunt, clasping her arm, as if 
seeking strength and support. 

Lady de Tilly was greatly shocked at the sad recital. 
She inquired the name of the man of rank who had acted 
so treacherously to the hapless girl. 

“ I will not utter the name to-day, my Lady I It has 
been revealed to me as a great secret. It is a name too high 
for the stroke of the law if there be any law left us but 
the will of a king’s mistress ! God, however, has left us the 


7HE SOLDIER'S WELCOME. 


99 


law of a gentleman’s sword to avenge its master’s wrong. 
The Baron de St. Castin will soon return to vindicate his 
own honor and whether or no, I vow to heaven, my Lady, 
that the traitor who has wronged that sweet girl, will one 
day, have to try whether his sword be sharper than that of 
La Come St. Luc ! But pshaw ! I am talking bravado like 
an Indian at the war post. The story of those luckless 
New England wives has carried us beyond all bounds.” 

Lady de Tilly looked admiringly, without a sign of re- 
proof at the old soldier, sympathizing with his honest 
indignation at so foul a wrong to her sex. ‘‘ Were that 
dear child mine, woman as I am, I would do the same 
thing ! ” said she with a burst of feeling. She felt Amelie 
press her arm as if she too shared the spirit of her bolder 
aunt. 

But here comes Felix Baudoin to summon us to din- 
ner ! ” exclaimed Lady de Tilly, as an old white-headed ser- 
vitor in livery appeared at the door with a low bow, 
announcing that dinner was served. 

Le Gardeur and La Come St. Luc greeted the old servi- 
tor with the utmost kindness, inquired after his health, 
and begged a pinch from his well-worn snuff-box. Such 
familiarities were not rare in that day between the gentle- 
men of New France and their old servants, who usually 
passed their lifetime in one household. Felix was the 
major domo of the manor house of Tilly, trusty, punctili- 
ous, and polite, and honored by his mistress more as a 
humble friend than as a servant of her house. 

Dinner is served, my Lady ! ” repeated Felix with an 
bow. But my Lady must excuse ! The kitchen has 
been full of habitans all day. The Trifourchettes, the 
Doubledents, and all the best eaters in Tilly have been 
here. After obeying my Lady’s commands to give them 
all they could eat, we have had difficulty in saving anything 
for my Lady’s own table.” 

‘‘No matter, Felix, we shall say grace all the same. I 
could content myself with bread and water, to give fish and 
flesh to my censitaires, who are working so willingly on 
the King’s corvee I But that must be my apology to you, 
Pierre Philibert and the Chevalier La Come for a poorer 
dinner than I could wish.” 

“ Oh, I feel no misgivings, my Lady ! ” remarked La 
Come St. Luc, laughing, “ Felix Baudoin is too faithful a 


lOO 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


servitor to starve his mistress for the sake of the Trifour- 
chettes, the Doubledents and all the best eaters in the 
Seigneurie ! No no I will be bound your Ladyship will 
hnd Felix has tolled and tithed from them enough to 
secure a dinner for us all — come, Amalie with me.” 

Lady de Tilly took the arm of Colonel Philibert, fol- 
lowed by Le Gardeur, La Come and Amelie, and, mar- 
shalled by the major domo, proceeded to the dining room — 
a large room, wainscotted with black walnut, a fine wood 
lately introduced. The ceiling was coved, and surrounded by 
a rich frieze of carving. A large table, suggestive of hos- 
pitality, was covered with dr apery of the snowiest linen, 
the product of the spinning-wheels and busy looms of the 
women of the Seigneurie of Tilly. Vases of china, filled 
with freshly gathered flowers, shed sweet perfumes, while 
they delighted the eye with their beauty, etherializing the 
elements of bread and meat by suggestions of the poetry 
and ideals of life. A grand old buffet, a prodigy of cabi- 
net-maker’s art, displayed a mass of family plate, and a 
silver shield embossed with the arms of Tilly, a gift of 
Henry of Navarre to their ancient and loyal house, hung 
upon the wall over the buffet. 

In spite of the Trifourchettes and the Doubledents, 
Felix Baudoin had managed to set an excellent dinner 
upon the table of his Lady, who looked archly at the Che- 
valier La Come, as if assenting to his remark on her old 
servitor. 

The Lady remained standing at the head of her table 
until they all sat down, when, clasping her hands, she re- 
cited with feeling and clearness the old Latin grace : 
‘‘ Benedic.^ Domine., nos et h(EC tiia dona^^' sanctifying her table 
by the invocation of the blessing of God upon it and upon 
all who sat round it. 

A soup, rich and savory, was the prelude to all din- 
ners in New France. A salmon speared in the shallows 
of the Chaudiere, and a dish of blood-speckled trout, 
from the mountain streams of St. Joachim, smoked upon 
the board. Little oval loaves of wheaten bread were 
piled up in baskets of silver filigree. For in those 
days the fields of New France produced crops of the 

finest wheat a gift which Providence has since 

withheld. ‘‘The wheat went away with the Bourbon 
lilies, and never grew afterwards,” said the old habitans. 


THE SOLDIEHS WELCOME. 


lOI 


The meat in the larder had all really been given to the 
hungry censitaires in the kitchen, except a capon from the 
Basse cour of Tilly, and a standing pie, the contents of 
which came from the manorial dove cote. A reef of rasp- 
berries, red as corals, gathered on the tangled slopes of 
Cote h Bonhomme, formed the dessert, with blue whortle- 
berries from Cape Tourment. Plums, sweet as honey 
drops, and small, grey-coated apples from Beaupre, deli- 
cious as those that comforted the Rose of Sharon. A few 
carafes of choice wine from the old manorial cellar, com- 
pleted the entertainment. 

The meal was not a protracted one, but to Pierre Phili- 
bert the most blissful hour of his life. He sat by the side 
of Amelie, enjoying every moment as if it were a pearl 
dropped into his bosom, by word, look or gesture of the 
radiant girl who sat beside him. 

He found Amelie, although somewhat timid at first 
to converse, a willing, nay an eager listener. She was 
attracted by the magnetism of a noble, sympathetic nature, 
and by degrees ventured to cast a glance at the handsome, 
manly countenance .where feature after feature ’ revealed 
itself, like a landscape at dawn of day, and in Colonel Phil- 
ibert she recognized the very looks, speech and manner of 
Pierre Philibert of old. 

Her questioning eyes hardly needed the interpretation 
of her tongue to draw him out to impart the story of his life 
during his long absence from New France, and it was with 
secret delight she found in him a powerful, cultivated intel- 
lect and nobility of sentiment such as she rightly supposed 
belonged only to a great man, while his visible pleasure at 
meeting her again filled her with a secret joy that, unno- 
ticed by herself, suffused her whole countenance with ra- 
diance, and incited her to converse with him more freely 
than she had thought it possible, when she sat down at 
table. 

“ It is long since we all sat together. Mademoiselle, at 
the table of your noble aunt,’’ remarked Philibert. ‘‘ It 
fulfills an often and often repeated day dream of mine, that 
I should one day find you just the same.” 

And do you find me just the same ? ” answered she, 
archly, “You take down the pride of ladyhood immensely. 
Colonel ! I had imagined I was something quite other than 
the wild child of Tilly ! ” 


102 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


I hardly like to consider you as in the pride of lady- 
hood, Mademoiselle, for fear I should lose the wild child 
of Tilly, whom I should be ao glad to find again.” 

‘‘ And whom you do find just the same in heart, mind 
and regard too ! ” thought she to herself, but her words 
were : ‘‘ My school mistresses would be ashamed of their 
work. Colonel, if they had not improved on the very rude 
material my aunt sent .them up from Tilly to manufacture 
into a fine lady ! I was the crowned queen of the year 
when I left the Ursulines ! So beware of considering me 
‘ the child of Tilly ’ any longer/* 

Her silvery laugh caught his heart, for in that he recog- 
nized vividly the gay young girl whose image he was every 
instant developing out of the tall, lovely woman beside 
him. 

La Come St. Luc and the Lady de Tilly found a thou- 
sand delights in mutual reminiscences of the past. Le 
Gardeur, somewhat heavy, joined in conversation with Phil- 
bert and his sister. Amelie guessed and Philibert knew- 
the secret of Le Gardeur’s dullness. Both strove to en- 
liven and arouse him, his aunt guessed too, that he had 
passed the night as the guests of the Intendant always 
passed it, and knowing his temper and the regard he had 
for her good opinion, she brought the subject of the In- 
tendant into conversation, in order, casually as it were, to 
impress Le Gardeur with her opinion of him. Pierre Phil- 
ibert, too, thought she, shall be put upon his guard against 
the crafty Bigot. 

Pierre,” said she, you are happy in a father who is 
a brave, honorable man, of whom any son in the world 
might be proud. The country holds by him immensely, 
and he deserves their regard. Watch over him now you 
are at home, Pierre. He has some relentless and power- 
ful enemies who would injure him if they could. 

‘‘That has he,” remarked La Come St. Luc, “ I have 
spoken to the Sieur Philibert, and cautioned him, but he 
is not impressible on the subject of his own safety. The 
Intendant spoke savagely of him in public the other day.” 

“ Did he, Chevalier ? ” replied Philibert, his eyes flash- 
ing with another fire than that which had filled them look-, 
ing at Amelie, “ He shall account to me for his words, were 
he Regent instead of Intendant ! ” 


THE SOLDIER'S WELCOME. 


103 


La Come St. Luc looked half approvingly at Philibert. 

‘‘Don’t quarrel with him yet, Pierre! You cannot 
make a quarrel of what he said, yet.” 

Lady de Tilly listened uneasily and said : 

‘' Don’t quarrel with him at all, Pierre Philibert ! Judge 
him and avoid him as a Christian man should do. God will 
deal with Bigot as he deserves. The crafty man will be 
caught in his own devices some day.” 

“ Oh, Bigot is a gentleman, aunt, too polite to insult any 
one,” remarked Le Gardeur, impatient to defend one 
whom he regarded as a friend. “ He is the prince of good 
fellows, and not crafty, I think, but all surface and sun- 
shine.” 

“You never explored the depths of him, Le Gardeur,” 
remarked La Come. “ I grant he* is a gay, jesting, drink- 
ing and gambling fellow in company ; but, trust me, he is 
deep and dark as the Devil’s cave that I have seen in the 
Ottawa country. It goes story under story, deeper and 
deeper, until the imagination loses itself in contemplating 
the bottomless pit of it. That is Bigot, Le Gardeur.” 

“ My censitaires report to me,” remarked the Lady de 
Tilly, “ that his commissaries are seizing the very seed-corn 
of the country. Heaven knows what will become of my 
poor people next year if the war continue ? ” 

“ What will become of the Province in the hands of 
Francois Bigot ? ” replied La Come St. Luc. “ They say, 
Philibert, that a certain great lady at court, who is his part- 
ner or patroness, or both, has obtained a grant of your 
father’s sequestered estate in Normandy, for her relative, 
the Count de Marville. Had you heard of that, Philibert ? 
It is the latest news from France.” 

“ Oh yes, Chevalier ! Ill news like that never misses 
the mark it is aimed at. The news soon reached my 
’ father 1 ” 

“ And how does your father take it ? ” 

“ My father is a true philosopher. He takes it as Soc- 
rates might have taken it. He laughs at the Count de 
Marville, who will, he says, want to sell the estate before 
the year is out, to pay his debts of honor — the only debts 
he ever does pay.” 

“ If Bigot had anything to do with such an outrage,” 
exclaimed Le Gardeur warmly, “ I would renounce him on 
the spot. I have heard Bigot speak of this gift to De 


104 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


Marville, whom he hates. He says it was all La Pompa- 
dour’s doing from first to last, and I believe it.” 

“ Well,” remarked La Come, ‘‘ Bigot has plenty of sins 
of his own to answer for to the Sieur Philibert, on the day 
of accompt, without reckoning this among them.”" 

The loud report of a cannon shook the windows of the 
room, and died away in long repeated echoes among the 
distant hills. 

That is the signal for the Council of War, my Lady,” 
said La Come. “ A soldier’s luck ! just as we were going 
to have music and heaven, we are summoned to field, camp 
or council.” 

The gentlemen rose and accompanied the ladies to the 
drawing-room, and prepared to depart. Colonel Philibert 
took a courteous leave Of the ladies of Tilly, looking in the 
eyes of Amelie for something, which, had she not turned 
them quickly upon a vase of flowers, he might have found 
there. She plucked a few sprays from the bouquet and 
handed them to him, as a token of pleasure at meeting 
him again in his own land. 

“ Recollect, Pierre Philibert ! ” said the Lady de Tilly, 
holding him cordially by the hand, “ The manor house of 
Tilly is your second home, where you are ever welcome.” 

Philibert was deeply touched by the genuine and state- 
ly courtesy of the lady. He kissed her hand with grate- 
ful reverence and bowing to both the ladies, accompanied 
La Come St. Luc and Le Gardeur to the castle of St. 
Louis. ' 

Amelie sat in the recess of the window, resting her 
cheek upon her tremulous hand, as she watched the gentle- 
men proceed on their way to the castle. Her mind was 
overflowing with thoughts and fancies, new, enigmatical, 
yet delightful. Her nervous manner did not escape the 
loving eye of her aunt, but she spoke not. She was silent 
under the burthen of a secret joy that found not vent in 
words. 

Suddenly Amelie rose from the window and seated her- 
self, in her impulsive way, at the organ. Her fingers 
touched the keys timidly at first as she began a trembling 
prelude of her own fantasy. In music her pent up feel- 
ings found congenial expression. The fire kindled and 
she presently burst out with the voice of a seraph in that 
glorious psalm : the ii6th. 


THE CASTLE OF ST. LOUIS. 


loS 


Toto pectore diligam 
Unice et Dominum colam, 
Qui lenis mihi supplici 
Non duram appulit aurem. 

Aurem qui mihi supplici, 
Non duram dedit; hunc ego 
Donee pectora spiritus 
Pulset semper, Amabo. 


The Lady de Tilly, half guessing the truth, would not 
wound the susceptibilities of her niece by appearing to do 
so, rose quietly from her seat and placed her arms gently 
round Amelie when she finished the psalm. She pressed 
her to her "bosom, kissed her fondly, and without aAvord 
left her to find in music relief from her high-wrought feel- 
ings. Her voice rose in sweeter and loftier harmonies to 
the pealing of the organ as she sang to the end, the joyful 
yet solemn psalm in a version made for Queen Mary of 
France and Scotland, when life was good, hope all bright- 
ness, and dark days as if they would never come. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE CASTLE OF ST. LOUIS. 

The Count de la Galissonniere, with ^ number of officers 
of rank, in full uniform, were slowly pacing up and down 
the long gallery .that fronted the castle of St. Louis, wait- 
ing for the council of war to open, for although the hour 
had struck, the Intendant, and many other high officials of 
the Colony, had not yet arrived from Beaumanoir. 

The Castle of St. Louis, a massive structure of stone, 
with square flanking towers, rose loftily from the brink of 
the precipice, overlooking the narrow, tortuous streets of 
the lower town. The steeple of the old Church of Notre 
Dame des Victoires, with its gilded vane, lay far beneath 
the feet of the observer as he leaned over the balustrade 
of iron that guarded the gallery of the chateau. 

A hum of voices and dense sounds rose up from the 
market of Notre Dame, and from the quay where ships and 
bateaux were moored. The cries of sailors, carters and 


io6 


THE CHIEN D' OR, 


hahitans in thick medley floated up the steep cliffs, pleas- 
ant sounds to the ear of the worthy Governor, who liked 
the honest noises of industry and labor better than all the 
music of the Academy. 

A few merchantmen which had run the blockade of the 
English cruisers lay at anchor in the stream, where the 
broad river swept majestically round the lofty cape. In 
the midst of them a newly arrived King’s ship, the Fleur de 
Fys^ decorated with streamers, floated proudly like a swan 
among a flock of teal. 

Le Gardeur, as an officer of the garrison, went to report 
himself to the military commandant, while La Come St. 
Luc and Colonel Philibert, proceeded to the gallery, where 
a crowd of officers were now assembled, waiting for the 
Council. 

The Governor at once called Philibert aside, and took 
his arm. ‘‘ Philibert,” said he, ‘‘ I trust you had no diffi- 
culty in finding the Intendant ? ” 

‘‘No difficulty, whatever, your Excellency. I discov- 
ered the Intendant and his friends, by ear, long before I 
got sight of them.” An equivocal smile accompanied 
Philibert’s words, which the Governor rightly interpreted. 

“ Ah ! I understand, Philibert, they were carousing at 
that hour of daylight? Were they all — ? Faugh! I shame 
to speak the word. Was the Intendant in a condition to 
comprehend my summons ? ” The Governor looked sad, 
rather than surprised or angry — for he had expected no 
less than Philibert had reported to him. 

“ I found him less intoxicated, I think, than many of 
his guests. He received your message with more polite- 
ness than I expected, and promised to be here punctually 
at the hour for opening the Council.” 

“ Oh, Bigot never lacks politeness, drunk or sober : that 
strong intellect of his, seems to defy the power of wine, as 
his heart is proof against moral feeling. You did not pro- 
long your stay in Beaumanoir, I fancy ? ” remarked the 
Governor, dinting the point of his cane into the floor. 

“ I hastened out of it as I would out of hell itself ! 
After making prize of my friend De Repentigny, and 
bringing him off with me, as I mentioned to you, I got 
quickly out of the Chateau.” 

“ You did rightly, Philibert ; the Intendant is ruining 
half the young men of birth in the Colony.” 


THE CASTLE OF ST. LOUIS. 


107 


‘‘ He shall not ruin Le Gardeur if I can save him,’’ 
said Philibert, resolutely. “ May I count upon your Ex- 
cellency’s co-operation ? ” added he. 

“Assuredly, Philibert! Command me in anything you 
can devise, to rescue that noble young fellow from the fatal 
companionship of Bigot. But I know not how long I shall 
be permitted to remain in New France : powerful intrigues 
are at work for my removal 1 ” added the Governor. “ I 
care not for the removal, so that it be not accompanied 
with insult.” 

“ Ah 1 you have received news to-day by the frigate ? ” 
said Philibert, looking down at the King’s ship at anchor 
in the stream. 

“ News ! yes, and such news, Philibert,” replied the 
Governor, in a tone of despondency. “ It needs the wis- 
dom of Solon to legislate for this land, and a Hercules to 
cleanse its Augean stables of official corruption. But my 
influence at Court, is nil ; you know that, Philibert ? ” 

“But while you are Governor, your advice ought to 
prevail with the King,” replied Philibert. 

“ My advice prevail ! listen, Philibert : my letters to the 
King and the Minister of Marine and Colonies, have been 
answered by whom, think you ? ” 

“ Nay, I cannot conceive who, out of the legal channel, 
would dare to reply to them.” 

“No 1 no man could guess, that my official despatches 
have been answered by the Marquise de Pompadour ! She 
replies to my despatches to my sovereign 1 ” 

“ La Pompadour 1 ” exclaimed Philibert in a burst of 
indignation ; “ She 1 the King’s mistress, reply to your 
despatches ! Has France come to be governed by courte- 
sans, like imperial Rome ? ” 

“Yes ! and you know the meaning of that insult, 
Philibert ! They desire to force me to resign ; and I shall 
resign as soon as I see my friends safe. I will serve the 
King in his fleet, but never more in a colony. This poor 
land is doomed to fall into the hands of its enemies,, 
unless we get a speedy peace. France will help us no 
more 1 ” 

“ Don’t say that, your Excellency I France will surely 
never be untrue to her children in the New World ! But 
our resources are not yet all exhausted : we are not driven 
to the wall yet, your Excellency ! ” 


lo8 THECHIENDOR. 

“ Almost, I assure you, Philibert ! But we shall under* 
stand that better after the Council. 

“What say the despatches touching the negotiations 
going on for peace ? ’’ asked Philibert, who knew how true 
were the Governor’s vaticinations. 

“ They speak favorably of peace, and I think correctly, 
Philibert ; and you know the King’s armies and the King’s 
■ mistresses cannot all be maintained at the same time — 
women or war, one or other must give way — and one need 
not doubt which it will be, when the women rule Court and 
camp in France, at the same time ! ” 

“To think that a woman picked out of the gutters ot 
Paris, should rule France, and answer your despatches ! ” 
said Philibert, angrily ; “ it is enough to drive honorable 
Frenchmen mad. But what says the Marquise de Pompa- 
dour ? ” 

“ She is specially severe upon my opposing the fiscal 
measures and commercial policy, as she calls it, of her 
friend, the Intendant ! She approves of his grant of a 
monopoly of trade, to the Grand Company, and disputes 
my right, as Governor, to interfere with the Intendant in 
the finances of the Colony.” 

Philibert felt deeply this wound to the honor and dignity 
of his chief. He pressed his hand in warmest sympathy. 

The Governor understood his feelings. “ You are a 
true friend, Philibert,” said he ; “ Ten men like you might 
still save this colony ! But it is past the hour for the 
Council, and still Bigot delays ! He must have forgotten my 
summons.” 

“ I think not — but he might have to wait until Cadet, 
Varin, Deschenaux, and the rest of them, were in a con- 
dition fit to travel,” answered Philibert with an air of dis- 
gust. 

“ O Philibert ! the shame of it ! the shame of it ! for 
such thieves to have the right to' sit among loyal, honor- 
able men,” exclaimed, or rather groaned, the Governor. 

^ “ They have the real power in NeW' France, and we the 
empty title and the killing responsibility ! Dine with me 
to-night, after the Council, Philibert ; I have much to say 
to you.” 

“Not to-night, your Excellency ! My father has killed 
the fatted calf for his returned prodigal, and I must dine 
with him to-night,” answered Philibert. 


THE CASTLE OF ST LOUIS. 


109 


“ Right ! Be it to-morrow, then ! Come on Wednesday,’’ 
replied the Governor. ‘‘ Your father is a gentleman who 
carries the principles of true nobility into the walks of 
trade ; you are happy in such a father, Philibert, as he is 
fortunate in such a son.” The Governor bowed to his 
friend, and rejoined the groups of officers upon the Terrace. 

A flash and a column of smoke, white and sudden, rose 
from the great battery that flanked the chateau. It was 
the second signal for the Council to commence. The 
Count de la Galissoniere, taking the arm of La Come St. 
Luc, entered the castle, and followed by the crowd of offi- 
cers, proceeded to the great Hall of Council and Audience. 
The Governor, followed by his secretaries, walked forward 
to the vice-regal chair, which stood on a* dais, at the head 
of a long table covered with crimson drapery. On each 
side of the table, the members of the Council took the 
places assigned to them, in the order of their rank and 
precedence ; but a long array of chairs remained unoccu- 
pied. These seats, belonging to the Royal Intendant and 
the other high officers of the Colony, who had not yet ar- 
rived to take their places in the Council, stood empty. 

The great hall of the Castle of St. Louis, was palatial 
in its dimensions and adornments. Its lofty coved ceiling, 
rested on a cornice of rich frieze of carved work, supported 
on polished pilasters of oak. The panels of wainscotting 
upon the walls, were surrounded by delicate arabesques, 
and hung with paintings of historic interest — portraits of 
the Kings, Governors, Intendants, and Ministers of State, 
who had been instrumental in the colonization of New 
France. 

Over the Governor’s seat, hung a gorgeous escutcheon 
of the Royal arms, draped with a cluster of white flags, 
sprinkled with golden lilies — the emblems of French 
sovereignty in the Colony. 

Among the portraits on the walls, besides those of the 
late and present King — which hung on each side of 
the throne — might be seen the features of Richelieu, who 
first organized the rude settlements on the St. Lawrence, 
into a body politic — a reflex of feudal France ; and of 
Colbert, who made available its natural wealth and re- 
sources, by peopling it with the best scions of the Mother 
Land — the noblesse and peasantry of Normandy, 
Brittany, and Aquitaine. There, too, might be seen the 


no 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


keen, bold features of Cartier, the first discoverer, and of 
Champlain, the first explorer of the new land, and the 
founder of Quebec. The gallant, restless Louis Buade de 
Frontenac, was pictured there, side by side, with his fair 
countess, called by reason of her surpassing loveliness. 
The Divine.’’ Vaudreuil, too, who spent a long life of 
devotion to his country, and Beauharnois, who nourished 
its young strength until it was able to resist, not only the 
powerful confederacy of the Five Nations, but the still 
more powerful league of New England and the other 
English Colonies. There, also, were seen the sharp in- 
tellectual face of Laval, its first bishop, who organized the 
Church and education in the Colony ; and of Talon, wisest 
of Intendants, who devoted himself to the improvement of 
agriculture, the increase of trade, and the well being of all 
the King’s subjects, in New France. And one more striking 
portrait was there, worthy to rank among the statesmen 
and rulers of New France — the pale, calm, intellectual 
features of Mere Marie de ITncarnation — the first superior 
of the Ursulines of Quebec, who in obedience to heavenly 
visions, as she believed, left France to found schools for 
the children of the new Colonists, and who taught her own 
womanly graces to her own sex, who were destined to 
become the future mothers of New France. 

In marked contrast with the military uniforms of the 
officers surrounding the Council-table, were the black robes 
and tonsured heads of two or three ecclesiastics, who had 
been called in by the Governor to aid the council with 
their knowledge and advice. There were the Abbe Metavet 
of the Algonquins of the North, Pere Oubal, the Jesuit mis- 
sionary of the Abenaquis of the East, and his confrere La 
Richardie, from the wild tribes of the Far West; but con- 
spicuous among the able and influential missionaries, who 
were the real rulers of the Indian nations allied with 
France, was the famous Sulpicien, Abbe Piquet, “the 
King’s missionary,” as he was styled in Royal ordinances, 
and the Apostle to the Iroquois, whom he was laboring to 
convert and bring over to the side of France, in the greai 
dispute raised between France and England for supremacy 
in North America. 

Upon the wall behind the Vice-Regal chair, hung a great 
map, drawn by the bold hand of Abbe Piquet, represent- 
ing the claims as well as actual possessions of France, in 


THE CASTLE OF ST. LOUIS. 


Ill 


America. A broad red line beginning in Acadia, traversed 
the map westerly taking in Lake Ontario, and running south* 
erly along the crests and ridges of the Appalachian Moun- 
tains. It was traced with a firm hand down to far off 
Louisiana, claiming for France the great vallies of the 
Ohio, the Mississippi, and the vast territories watered by 
the Missouri and the Colorado — thus hemming the En- 
glish in between the walls of the Appalachian range on 
the west, and the sea coast on the east. 

The Abbe Piquet had lately in a canoe descended the 
Belle Riviere, as the voyageurs called the noble Ohio. From 
its source to its junction with the solitary Mississippi, the 
Abbe had planted upon its conspicuous bluffs the ensigns 
of France, with tablets of lead bearing the Fleur de Lys, 
and the proud inscription, ^^Manibus date lilia plenis.^^ Lil- 
ies destined after a fierce struggle for empire to be tram- 
pled into the earth by the feet of the victorious English. 

The Abbe, deeply impressed with the dangers that im- 
pended over the Colony, labored zealously to unite the In- 
dian nations in a general alliance with France. He had 
already brought the powerful Algonquins and Nipissings 
into his scheme, and planted them at Two Mountains, as a 
bulwark to protect the city of Ville Marie. He had created 
a great schism in the powerful confederacy of the Five 
Nations, by adroitly fanning into a flame their jealousy of 
English encroachments upon their ancient territory on Lake 
Ontario ; and bands of Iroquois had, not long since, held 
conference with the Governor of New France, denouncing 
the English for disregarding their exclusive right to their 
own country. “ The lands we possess,’’ said they at a great 
council in Ville Marie — the lands we possess were given 
to us by the Master of Life, and we acknowledge to hold of 
no other !” 

.The Abbe had now strong hopes of perfecting a scheme, 
which he afterwards accomplished. A powerful body of 
the Iroquois left their villages and castles on the Mohawk 
and Gennessee rivers, and under the guidance of the Abbe, 
settled round the new Fort of La Presentation, on the St. 
Lawrence, and thus barred that way for the future, against 
the destructive inroads of their countrymen, who remained 
faithful to the English alliance. 

Pending the arrival of the Royal Intendant, the mem- 
bers of the Council indulged freely in conversation, more 


II2 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


or less bearing upon the important matters to be discussed, 
the state of 'he country, the movements of the enemy 
and not seldom intermingled remarks of dissatisfaction 
and impatience at the absence of the Intendant. 

The revel at Beaumanoir was well known to them ; and 
eyes flashed, and lips curled in open scorn, at the well un- 
derstood reason of the Intendant’s delay. 

My private letters by the Fleur de remarked 

Beauharnois, relate among other Court gossip, that orders 
would be sent out to stop the defensive works at Quebec, 
and pull down what is built ! They think the cost of walls 
round our city can be better bestowed on political favorites, 
and certain high personages at Court.’’ Beauharilois 
turned towards the Governor : Has your Excellency heard 
aught of this ? ” asked he. 

‘‘Yes! It is true enough, Beauharnois! I also have re^ 
ceived communications to that effect ! ” replied the Gover- 
nor, with an effort at calmness, which ill concealed the 
shame and disgust that filled his soul. 

There was an indignant stir among the officers, and 
many lips seemed trembling with speech. The impetuous 
Rigaud de Vaudreuil broke the fierce silence. He struck 
his fist heavily on the table. 

“ Ordered us to stop the building of the walls of 
Quebec! and to pull down what we have done by virtue of 
the King’s corvee / — Did I hear your Excellency right ?” 
repeated he in atone of utmost incredulity. “The King is 
surely mad to think of such a thing !” 

“Yes, Rigaud ! It is as I tell you. But we must respect 
the royal command, and treat his Majesty’s name as be- 
comes loyal servants. 

“ Ve7itre samt bleu / — heard ever Canadian or Frenchman 
such moonshine madness ! I repeat it — your Excellency ! 
dismantle Quebec How in God’s name are the King’s 
dominions and the King’s subjects to be defended.” Ri- 
gaud got warmer. He was fearless, and would, as every one 
knew, have out his say, had the King been present in per- 
son. “ Be assured, your Excellency, it is not the King who 
orders that affront to his faithful colony. It is the King’s 
Ministers — the King’s mistresses — the snuff-box tapping 
courtiers at Versailles, who can spend the public money 
in more elegant ways than in raising up walls round our 
brave old city! Ancient honor and chivalry of France I 
what has become of you ? ” 


THE CASTLE OF ST LOUIS. 


113 

Rigaud sat down angrily : the emotion he displayed was 
too much in accord with the feelings of the gallant officers 
present, to excite other than marks of approbation, except 
among a few personal friends of the Intendant, who took 
their cue from the avowed wishes of the Court. 

“ What reason does his Majesty give ? ’’ asked La Come 
St. Luc, “for this singular communication?’^ 

“ The only reason given, is found in the concluding 
paragraph of the despatch. I will allow the Secretary to 
read so much of it, and no more, before the Intendant ar- 
rives.” The Governor looked up at the great clock in the 
hall, with a grim glance of impatience — as if mentally 
calling down anything but a blessing upon the head of the 
loitering Intendant. 

“ The Count de le Galissoni^re ought to know,” said 
the despatch sneeringly, “ that works like those of Quebec 
are not to be undertaken by the Governors of Colonies, 
except under express orders from the King ; and therefore 
it is His Majesty’s desire that, upon the reception of this 
dispatch, your Excellency will discontinue the works that 
have been begun upon Quebec. Extensive fortifications re- 
quire strong garrisons for their defence, and the King’s 
treasury is already exhausted by the extraordinary expenses 
of the war in Europe. It cannot at the same time carry 
on the war in Europe and meet the heavy draughts made 
upon it, from North America.” 

The Secretary folded the despatch, and sat down with- 
out altering a line of his impassive face. Not so the 
majority of the officers round the table : they were excited, 
and ready to spring up in their indignation. The King’s 
name restrained them all but Rigaud de Vaudreuil, who 
impetuously burst out with an oath, exclaiming : “ They 

may as well sell New France at once to the enemy, if we 
are not to defend Quebec ! The treasury wants money for 
the war in Europe forsooth ! No doubt it wants money 
for the war, when so much is lavished upon the pimps, pan- 
ders and harlots of the Court ! ” 

The Governor rose suddenly — striking the table with 
his scabbard to stop Rigaud in his rash and dangerous 
speech. 

“Not a word more of comment, Chevalier Rigaud ! ” 
said he, with a sharp imperative tone that cut short de- 
bate*; “ not another word ! His Majesty’s name and those 
8 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


I14 

of his Ministers must be spoken here respectfully, or not at 
all ! Sit down, Chevalier de Vaudreuil ; you are incon- 
siderate.’’ 

“ I obey your Excellency — I am, I dare say, inconsider- 
ate ! but I am right ! ” Rigaud’s passion was subsiding, 
but not spent. He obeyed the order, however. He had 
had his say, and flung himself heavily upon his chair. 

‘‘The King’s despatch demands respectful and loyal 
consideration,” remarked DeLery, a solid grave oflicer of 
engineers, “ and I doubt not that upon a proper remon- 
strance from this council. His Majesty will graciously re- 
consider his order. The fall of Louisbourg is ominous of 
the fall of Quebec. It is imperative to fortify the city in 
time to meet the threatened invasion. The loss of Quebec 
would be the loss of the Colony ; and the loss of the 
Colony, the disgrace of France and the ruin of our country.” 

“I cordially agree with the Chevalier DeLery,” said 
La Come St. Luc. “ He has spoken more sense than 
would be found in a ship load of such despatches as that 
just read ! Nay, your Excellency,” continued the old offi- 
cer smiling — “ I shall not affront my sovereign, by believ- 
ing that so ill-timed a missive came from him ! Depend 
upon it. His Majesty has neither seen nor sanctioned it. 
It is the work of the Minister and his mistresses not the 
King’s.” 

“ La Come ! La Come 1 ” The Governor raised his finger 
with a warning look. “ We will not discuss the point 
further, until we are favored with the presence and opinion 
of the Intendant. He will surely be here shortly ! ” At 
this moment a distant noise of shouting was heard in some 
part of the city. 

An officer of the day, entered the Hall in great haste, 
and whispered something in the Governor’s ear 

“ A riot in the streets ! ” exclaimed the Governor. 
“ The mob attacking the Intendant ! You do not say so ! 
Captain Duval, turn out the whole guard at once, and let 
Colonel St. Remy take the command, and clear the way for 
the Intendant, and also clear the streets of all disturbers.” 

A number of officers sprang to their feet. “ Keep seated, 
gentlemen ! We must not break up the council,” said the 
Governor. “ We are sure to have the Intendant here in a 
few minutes, and learn the cause of this uproar. It is 
some trifling affair of noisy hahitans, I have no doubt.” 


THE CASTLE OF ST LOUIS. 


115 


Another loud shout — or rather yell made itself distinctly 
heard in the Council Chamber. “ It is the people, cheer- 
ing the Intendant on his way through the city ! remarked 
La Come St. Luc, ironically. “ Zounds ! what a vacanne 
they make ! See what it is to he popular with the citizens 
of Quebec.’’ 

There was a smile all round the table, at La Corne’s 
sarcasm. It offended a few friends of the Intendant, how- 
ever. 

“ The Chevalier La Come speaks boldly in the absence 
of the Intendant,” said Colonel Leboeuf. A gentleman 
would give a Louis d’or any day to buy a whip to lash the 
rabble, sooner than a sou to win their applause ! I would 
not give a red herring for the good opinion of all Quebec ! ” 

“ They say in France, Colonel,” replied La Come “ St. 
Luc, scornfully, ‘that King’s chaff is better than other 
people’s corn, and that fish in the market is cheaper than 
fish in the sea ! ’ 1 believe it — and can prove it to any 

gentleman who maintains the contrary ! ” 

There was a laugh at La Corne’s allusion to the Mar- 
quise de Pompadour, whose original name, of Jeanne Pois- 
son, gave rise to infinite jests and sarcasms among the peo- 
ple of low and high degree. 

Colonel Leboeuf, choleric as he was, refrained from 
pressing the quarrel with La Come St. Luc. He sat 
sulkily smothering his wrath — longing to leave the Hall 
and go to the relief of the Intendant — but kept against his 
will by the command of the Governor. 

The drums of the Main Guard beat the assembly. The 
clash of arms and the tramp of many feet resounded from 
the court-yard of the Chateau. The members of the 
Council looked out of the windows as the troops formed in 
column, and headed by Colonel St. Remy, defiled out of 
the Castle gate ; the thunder of their drums drowning 
every other sound and making the windows shake, as they 
marched through the narrow streets to the scene of dis- 
turbance. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE CHIEN d’OR. 

On the Rue Buade, a street commemorative of the gal- 
laai Frontenac, stood the large, imposing edifice newly 
built by the Bourgeois Philibert, as the people of the Col- 
ony foiivliy called Nicholas Jaquin Philibert, the great and 
wealthy merchant of Quebec, and their champion against 
the odious monopolies of the grand Company, favored by 
the Intendaiit. 

The edifice was of stone, spacious and lofty, but in 
style solid, plain and severe. It was a wonder of archi- 
tecture in New France, and the talk and admiration of the 
Colony from Tadousac to Ville Marie. It comprized the 
city residence of the Bourgeois as well as suites of offices 
and ware-rooms connected with his immense business. 

The house was bare of architectural adornments ; but 
on its fa9ade, blazing in the sun, was the gilded sculpture 
that so much piqued the curiosity of both citizens and 
strangers, and was the talk of every seigneurie in the land. 
The tablet of the Chien Uor — the Golden Dog with its enig- 
matical inscription, looked down defiantly upon the busy 
street beneath, where it is still to be seen, perplexing the 
beholder to guess its meaning, and exciting our deepest 
sympathies over the tragedy of which it remains the sole 
sad memorial. 

Above and beneath the figure of a couchant dog, knaw- 
ing the thigh bone of a man, is graven the weird inscrip- 
tion, cut deeply in the stone, as if for all future generations 
to read and ponder over its meaning : — 

“ Je suis un chien qui ronge I’os, 

En le rongeant je prends mon repos- 
Un temps viendra qui n’est pas venu 
Que je mordrai qui m’aura inordu.” 

1736- 

Or in English : — 

“ I am a dog that gnaws his bone, 

I couch and gnaw it all alone — 

A time will come, which is not yet, 

When I’ll bite him by whom I’m b.'t. ‘ 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


117 

The magazines of the Bourgeois Philibert presented 
not only an epitome, but a substantial portion of the com- 
merce of New France. Bales of furs, which had been 
brought down in fleets of canoes from the wild, almost un- 
known regions of the Northwest, lay piled up to the beams ; 
skins of the smooth beaver, the delicate dtter, black and 
silver fox, so rich to the eye and silky to the touch, that 
the proudest beauties longed for their possession ; seal 
skins to trim the gowns of portly burgomasters, and ermine 
to adorn the robes of nobles and kings. The spoils of 
the wolf, bear and buffalo, worked to the softness of cloth 
by the hands of Indian women, were stored for winter 
wear, and to fill the sledges with warmth and comfort 
when the northwest wind freezes the snow tq fine dust, 
and the aurora borealis moves in stately procession, like 
an army of spearmen, across the northern sky. The har- 
vests of the colonists, the corn, the wool, the flax, the tim- 
ber (enough to build whole navies), and mighty pines fit to 
mast the tallest admiral, were stored upon the wharves and 
in the warehouses of the Bourgeois upon the banks of the 
St. Lawrence, with iron from the royal forges of the Three 
Rivers, and heaps of ginseng from the forests, a product 
worth its weight in gold, and eagerly exchanged by the 
Chinese for their teas, silks, and syce silver. 

The stately mansion of Belmont overlooking the pictur- 
esque valley of the St. Charles, was the residence proper of 
the Bourgeois Philibert, but the shadow that in time falls 
over every hearth had fallen upon his, when the last of his 
children, his beloved son Pierre, left home to pursue his mili- 
tary studies in France. During Pierre’s absence the home 
at Belmont, although kept up with the same strict atten- 
tion which the Bourgeois paid to everything under his rule, 
was not occupied by him. He preferred his city mansion, 
as more convenient for his affairs, and resided therein. 
His partner of many years of happy wedded life had been 
long dead ; she left no void in his heart that another could 
fill, but he kept up a large household for friendship sake, 
and was lavish in his hospitality. In secret he was a 
grave, solitary man, caring for the present only for the 
sake of the thousands dependant on him — living much 
with the memory of the dear dead, and much with the 
hope of the future in his son Pierre. 

The Bourgeois was a man worth looking at, and, at a 


THE CHIEN n OR, 


1 18 

glance, one to trust to, whether you sought the strong hand 
to help, the wise head to counsel, or the feeling heart to 
sympathize with you. He was tall, and strongly knit, with fea- 
tures of a high patrician cast, a noble head, covered thick 
with grizzly hair — one of those heads so tenacious of life, 
that they never grow bald, but carry to the grave the snows 
of a hundred years. His quick grey eyes caught your 
meaning ere it was half spoken. A nose and chin 
moulded with beauty and precision, accentuated his hand- 
some face. His lips were grave even in their smile, for 
gaiety was rarely a guest in the heart of the Bourgeois. A 
man keenly susceptible to kindness, but strong in resent- 
ments and not to be placated without the fullest atone- 
ment. 

The Bourgeois sat by the table in his spacious, well 
furnished drawing room, which overlooked the Rue Buade, 
and gave him a glimpse of the tall new cathedral and the 
trees and gardens of the seminary. He was engaged in 
reading letters and papers just arrived from France by the 
frigate, rapidly extracting their contents and pencilling 
on their margins' memos, for further reference to his 
clerks. 

The only other occupant of the room was a very 
elderly lady, in a black gown of rigid Huguenot fashion. 
A chDse white cap, tied under her chin, set off to the worst 
advantage her sharp, yet kindly, features. Not an end of 
ribbon or edge of lace could be seen to point to one hair- 
breadth of indulgence in the vanities of the world by this 
strict old Puritan, who, under this unpromising exterior, 
possessed the kindliest heart in Christendom. Her 
dress, if of rigid severity, was of saintly purity, and almost 
pained the eye with its precision and neatness. So fond 
are we of some freedom from over-much care as from over- 
much righteousness, that a stray tress, a loose ribbon, a 
little rent even, will relieve the eye and hold it with a sub- 
tle charm. Under the snow white hair of Dame Rochelle 
— ^for she it was — the worthy old housekeeper and ancient 
governess of the House of Philibert, you saw a kind, in- 
telligent face. Her dark eyes betrayed her Southern origin, 
confirmed by her speech, which, although refined by cul- 
ture, still retained the soft intonation and melody of her 
native Languedoc. 

Dame Rochelle, the daughter of an ardent Calvinist 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


119 

minister, was born in the fatal year of the revocation of 
the Edict of Nantes, when Louis XIV. undid the glorious 
work of Henri Quatre, and covered France with persecu- 
tion and civil war, filling foreign countries with the elect 
of her population, her industry and her wealth, exiled in 
the name of religion. 

Dame Rochelle’s childhood had passed in the trying 
scenes of the great persecution ; and in the succeeding civil 
wars of the Cevennes, she lost all that was nearest 
and dearest to her — her father, her brothers, her kindred 
nearly all, and lastly a gallant gentleman of Dauphiny, to 
whom she was betrothed. She knelt beside him at his 
place of execution — or martyrdom, for he died for his 
faith — and holding his hands in hers, pledged her eter- 
nal fidelity to his memory, and faithfully kept it all her 
life. 

The Count de Philibert, elder brother of the Bourgeois, 
was an officer of the King ; he witnessed this sad scene, 
took pity upon the hapless girl, and gave her a home and pro- 
tection with his family in the Chateau of Philibert, where 
she spent the rest of her life until the Bourgeois succeeded 
to his childless brother. In the ruin of his house she would 
not consent to leave them, but followed their fortunes to 
New France. She had been the faithful friend and com- 
panion of the wife of the Bourgeois and the educator of 
his children, and was now, in her old age, the trusted 
friend and manager of his hou’Sehold. Her days were 
divided between the exercises of religion and the prac- 
tical duties of life. The light that illumined her, though 
flowing through the narrow window of a narrow creed, was 
still light of divine origin. It satisfied her faith, and filled 
her with resignation, hope, and comfort. 

Her three studies were the Bible, the hymns of Marot, 
and the sermons of the famous Jurieu. She had listened 
to the prophecies of Grande Marie, and had even herself 
been breathed upon on the top of Mount Peira by the 
Huguenot prophet De Serre. 

Good Dame Rochelle was not without a feeling that at 
times the spiritual gift she had received when a girl made 
itself manifest by intuitions of the future, which were, after 
all, perhaps only emanations of her natural good sense and 
clear intellect — the foresight of a pure mind. 

The wasting persecutions of the Calvinists in the moun- 


120 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


tains of the Cevennes, drove men and women wild with 
desperate fanaticism. De Serre had an immense follow- 
ing. He assumed to impart the Holy Spirit and the gift of 
tongues by breathing upon the believers. The refugees 
carried his doctrines to England, and handed down their 
singular ideas to modern times ; and a sect may still be 
found which believes in the gift of tongues and practices 
the power of prophecying, as taught originally in the 
Cevennes. 

The good dame was not reading this morning, although 
the volume before her lay open. Her glasses lay upon the 
page, and she sat musing by the open window, seldom 
looking out, however, for her thoughts were chiefly inward. 
The return of Pierre Philibert, her foster child, had filled 
her with joy and thankfulness, and she was pondering in 
her mind the details of a festival which the Bourgeois in- 
tended to give in honor of the return of his only son. 

The Bourgeois had finished the reading of his packet 
of letters, and sat musing in silence. He, too, was intently 
thinking of his son. His face was filled with the satisfac- 
tion of old Simeon when he cried out of the fullness of his 
heart : Domine ! nunc dhnittis ! 

“ Dame Rochelle,” said he. She turned promptly to 
the voice of her master, as she ever insisted on calling 
him. “Were I superstitious, I should fear that my great 
joy at Pierre’s return might be the prelude to some great 
sorrow.” 

“ God’s blessing om Pierre ! ” said she ; “ he can only 
bring joy to this house. Thank the Lord for what he 
gives and what He takes ! He took Pierre, a stripling 
from his home, and returns him a great man, fit to ride at 
the King’s right hand, and to be over his host like Benaiah, 
the son of Jehoiada, over the host of Solomon.” 

“ Grand mei'ci for the comparison. Dame ! ” said the 
Bourgeois smiling, as he leaned back in his chair. “ But 
Pierre is a Frenchman, and would prefer commanding a 
brigade in the army of the Marshal de Saxe to being over 
the host of King Solomon. But,” continued he, gravely, 
“ I am strangely happy to-day, Deborah,” — he was wont 
to call her Deborah when very earnest — “and I will not 
anticipate any mischief to mar my happiness. Pshaw ! It 
is only the reaction of over-excited feelings. I am weak 
in the strength of my joy.” 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


I2I 


“ The still small voice speaks to us in that way, Master, 
to remind us to place our trust in Heaven, not on earth, 
where all is transitory and uncertain ; for if a man live 
many years, and rejoice in them all, let him remember the 
days of darkness, for they are many ! We are no strangers 
to the vanity and shadows of human life. Master ! Pierre’s 
return is like sunshine breaking through the clouds. God 
is pleased if we bask in the sunshine when he sends it.” 

Right, Dame ! and so we will ! The old walls of Bel- 
mont shall ring with rejoicing over the return of their heir 
and future owner.” 

The Dame looked up delightedly at the remark of the 
Bourgeois. She knew he had destined Belmont as a resi- 
dence for Pierre ; but the thought suggested in her mind 
was perhaps the same which the Bourgeois had mused 
upon when he gave expression to a certain anxiety. 

‘‘ Master,” said she, ‘‘ does Pierre know that the 
Chevalier Bigot was concerned in the false accusations 
against you, and that it was he, prompted by the Cardinal 
and the Princess de Carignan, who enforced the unjust 
decree of the Court ? ” 

“ I think not, Deborah. I never told Pierre that Bigot 
was ever more than the avocat dii Roi in my persecu- 
tion. It is what troubles me amidst my joy. If Pierre 
knew that the Intendant had been my false accuser on the 
part of the Cardinal, his sword would not rest a day in its 
scabbard without calling Bigot to a bloody account. In- 
deed, it is all I myself can do to refrain. When I met him for 
the first time here, in the Palace gate, I knew him again, 
and looked him full in the eyes, and he knew me. He is 
a bold hound, and glared back at me without shrinking. 
Had he smiled I should have struck him ; but we passed 
in silence with a salute as mortal as enemies ever gave each 
other. It is well, perhaps, I wore not my sword that day, 
for I felt my passion rising — a thing I abhor. Pierre’s 
young blood would not remain still if he knew the Inten- 
dant as I know him. But I dare not tell him ! There 
would be bloodshed at once, Deborah ! ” 

I fear so. Master ! I trembled at Bigot in the old 
land ; I tremble at him here, where he is more powerful 
than before. I saw him passing one day. He stopped to 
read the inscription of the Golden Dog. His face was 
the face of a fiend as he rode hastily away. He knew well 
how to interpret it.” 


122 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


“ Ha ! you did not tell me that before, Deborah ! ” 
The Bourgeois rose excitedly. ‘‘ Bigot read it all, did he ? 
I hope every letter of it was branded on his soul as with 
red-hot iron ! ’’ 

“ Dear Master, that is an unchristian saying, and no- 
thing good can come of it. ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the 
Lord ! ’ Our worst enemies are best left in His hands.’’ 

The Dame was proceeding in a still more moralizing 
strain, when a noise arose in the street from a crowd of 
persons, habita7is for the most part, congregated round 
the house. The noise increased to such a degree that they 
stopped their conversation, and both the Dame and the 
Bourgeois looked out of the window at the increasing multi- 
tude that had gathered in the street. 

The crowd had come to the Rue Buade, to see the 
famous tablet of the Golden Dog, which was talked of in 
every seigneurie in New France ; still more, perhaps, to 
see the Bourgeois Philibert himself — the great merchant, 
who contended for the rights of the hcHitans^ and who 
would not yield an inch to the Friponne. 

The Bourgeois looked down at the ever-increasing 
throng, country-people for the most part, with their wives 
with not a few citizens whom he could easily distinguish by 
. their dress and manner. The Bourgeois stood rather 
withdrawn from the front, so as not to be recognized, for 
he hated intensely anything like a demonstration, still less 
an ovation. He could hear many loud voices, however, 
in the crowd, and caught up the chief topics they discussed 
with each other. 

His eyes rested several times on a wiry, jerking little 
fellow, whom he recognized as Jean La Marche, the fiddler, 
a censitaire of the manor of Tilly. He was a well known 
character, and had drawn a large circle of the crowd around 
himself. 

“ I want to see the Bourgeois Philibert ! ” exclaimed 
Jean La Marche. “ He is the bravest merchant in New 
France — the people’s friend. Bless the Golden Dog, and 
curse the Friponne ! ” 

“ Hurrah for the Golden Dog, and curse the Friponne ! ” 
exclaimed a score of voices ; “ won’t you sing, Jean ? ” 

“Not now; I have a^ new ballad ready on the Golden 
Dog, which I shall sing to-night — that is, if you will care to 
listen to me.” Jean said this with a very demure air of 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


123 


mock modesty, knowing well that the reception of a 
new ballad from him would equal the furor for a new aria 
from the prima donna of the opera at Paris. 

‘‘We will all come to hear it, Jean ! ” cried they : “ but 
take care of your fiddle, or you will get it crushed in the 
crowd.” 

“ As if I did not know how to take care of my darling 
baby ! ” said Jean, holding his violin high above his head. 

“ It is my only child ; it will laugh or cry, and love and 
scold, as I bid it, and make everybody else do the same 
when I touch its heart-strings.” Jean had brought his 
violin under his arm, in place of a spade, to help build up 
the walls of the city. He had never heard of Amphion, 
with his lyre, building up the walls of Thebes; but Jean 
knew that in his violin lay a power of work, by other hands, 
if he played while they labored. “It lightened toil and 
made work go merrily as the bells of Tilly at a wedding ; ” 
said he. 

There was immense talk, with plenty of laughter and * 
ho thought of mischief, among the crowd. The habitaris 
of eii haiit and the hahita7is of en has commingled, as they 
rarely did, in a friendly way. Nor w^as anything to pro- 
voke a quarrel said even to the Acadians, whose rude 
patois was a source of merry jest to the better-speaking 
Canadians. 

The Acadians had flocked in great numbers into 
Quebec, on the seizure of their Province by the English — 
sturdy, robust, quarrelsome fellows, who went about chal- 
lenging people in their reckless way , — Etions pas mon maitre^ 
mo?isiear? — but all were civil to-day, and tuques were 
pulled off, and bows exchanged, in a style of easy polite- 
ness that would not have shamed the streets of Paris. 

The crowd kept increasing in the Rue Buade. The 
two sturdy beggars, who vigorously kept their places on the 
stone steps of the barrier or gateway of the Basse Ville, 
reaped an unusual harvest of the smallest coin — Max 
Grimau, an old disabled soldier, in ragged uniform, which 
he had worn at the defence of Prague, under the Marshal 
de Belleisle, and blind Bartemy, a mendicant born ; the 
former, loud-tongued and importunate, the latter, silent and 
only holding out a shaking hand for charity. No Finance 
Minister or Royal Intendant studied more earnestly the 
problem how to tax the kingdom, than Max and Blind 


124 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


Bartemy how to toll the passers-by, and with less success, 
perhaps. 

To-day was a red-letter day for the sturdy beggars, for 
the news flew fast that an ovation of some popular kind 
was to be given to the Bourgeois Philibert. The hahitans 
came trooping up the rough mountain-road that leads from 
the Basse Ville to the Upper Town, and up the long stairs, 
lined with the stalls of Basque pedlars, cheating, loqua- 
cious varlets ; which formed a by-way from the lower regions 
of the Rue de Champlain, a break-neck thoroughfare, little 
liked by the old and asthmatical, but nothing to the sturdy 
‘‘ climbers,’’ as the habitans called the lads of Quebec, or 
the light-footed lasses, who displayed their trim ankles, as 
they flew up the breezy steps to church or market. 

Max Grimau and Blind Bartemy had ceased counting 
their coins. The passers-by came up in still increasing num- 
bers, until the street, from the barrier of the Basse Ville to 
, the Cathedral, was filled with a noisy, good-humored crowd, 
without an object, except to stare at the Golden Dog, and a 
desire to catch a glimpse of the Bourgeois Philibert. 

The crowd had become very dense, when a troop of 
gentlemen rode at full speed into the Rue Buade, and, 
after trying recklessly to force their way through, came to 
a sudden halt, in the midst of the surging mass. 

The Intendant, Cadet and Varin, had ridden from 
Beaumanoir, followed by a train of still flushed guests, 
who, after a hasty purification, had returned with their host 
to the city — a noisy troop, loquacious, laughing, shouting, 
as is the wont of men, reckless at all times, and still more 
defiant, when under the influence of wine. 

“ What is the meaning of this rabble. Cadet } ” asked 
Bigot ; “ they seem to be no friends of yours. That fellow 
is wishing you in a hot place ! ” added Bigot, laughing, as 
he pointed out a habitafi who was shouting A bas Cadet 

‘‘ Nor friends of yours, either,” replied Cadet. ‘‘ They 
have not recognized you yet. Bigot. When they do, they 
will wish you in the hottest place of all ! ” 

The Intendant was not known personally to the habi- 
tans as were Cadet, Varin and the rest. Loud shouts and 
execrations were freely vented against these, as soon as 
they were recognized. 

Has this rabble waylaid us to insult us } ” asked Bigot. 
But it can hardly be that they knew of our return to the 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


125 

city to-day.’’ The Intendant began to jerk his horse round 
impatiently, but without avail. 

“ Oh, no, your Excellency ! it is the rabble which the 
Governor has summoned to the King’s corvee. They are 
paying their respects to the Golden Dog, which is the idol 
the mob worships just now. They did not expect us to 
interrupt their devotions, I fancy.” 

“ The vile moutons ! their fleece is not worth the 
shearing ! ” exclaimed Bigot, angrily, at the mention of the 
Golden Dog, which, as he glanced upwards seemed to 
glare defiantly upon him. 

‘‘ Clear the way, villains ! ” cried Bigot, loudly, while 
darting his horse into the crowd. “ Plunge that Flanders 
cart-horse of yours into them. Cadet, and do not spare 
their toes ! ” 

Cadet’s rough disposition chimed well with the Inten- 
dant’s wish. “ Come on, Varin, and the rest of you,” cried 
he, “ give spur and fight your way through the rabble.” 

The whole troop plunged madly at the crowd striking 
right and left with their heavy hunting whips. A violent 
scuffle ensued ; many habitans were ridden down and 
some of the horsemen dismounted. The Intendant’s Gas- 
con blood got furious. He struck heavily, right and left, 
and many a bleeding tuque marked his track in the crowd. 

The habitants recognized him at last, and a tremen- 
dous yell burst out. “ Long live the Golden Dog ! Down 
with the Friponne ! ” while the more bold ventured on the 
cry. Down with the Intendant, and the thieves of the 
Grand Company ! ” 

Fortunately for the troop of horsemen, the habita7is 
were utterly unarmed. But stones began to be thrown, 
and efforts were made by them, not always unsuccessfully, 
to pull the riders off their horses. Poor Jean La Marche’s 
darling child, his favorite violin, was crushed at the first 
charge. Jean rushed at the Intendant’s bridle, and received 
a blow which levelled him. 

The Intendant and all the troop now drew their swords. 
A bloody catastrophe seemed impending, when the Bour- 
geois Philibert, seeing the state of affairs dispatched a 
messenger with tidings to the Castle of St. Louis, and 
rushed himself into the street amidst the surging crowd, 
imploring, threatening and compelling them to give way. 

He was soon recognized, and cheered by the people ; 


126 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


but even his influence might have failed to calm the fiery 
passions excited by the Intendant’s violence, had not the 
drums of the approaching soldiery suddenly resounded 
above the noise of the riot. In a few minutes, long files 
of glittering bayonets were seen streaming down the Rue 
du Fort. Colonel St. Remi rode at their head, forming 
his troops in position to charge the crowd. The Colonel 
saw at once the state of affairs, and being a man of judg^ 
ment, commanded peace before resorting to force. He 
was at once obeyed. The people stood still and in silence. 
They fell back quietly before the troops. They had no 
purpose to resist the authorities, — indeed, had no purpose 
whatever. A way was made clear by the soldiers, and the 
Intendant and his friends were extricated from their danger. 

They rode at once out of the mob, amid a volley of 
execrations, which .were replied to by angry oaths and 
threats of the cavaliers as they galloped across the Place 
d’ Armes, and rode pell-mell inta the gateway of the Chateau 
of St. Louis. 

The crowd, relieved of their presence, grew calm ; and 
some of the more timid of them got apprehensive of the 
consequences of this outrage upon the Royal Intendant. 
They dispersed quietly, singly, and in groups, each one 
hoping that he might not be called upon to account for the 
day’s proceedings. 

The Intendant and his cortege of friends rode furiously 
into the court-yard of the Chateau of St. Louis, dishevelled, 
bespattered and some of them hatless. They dismounted, 
and foaming with rage, rushed through the lobbies and 
with heavy trampling of feet, clattering of ’ scabbards, and 
a bedlam of angry tongues, burst into the Council Cham- 
ber. 

The Intendant’s eyes shot fire. His Gascon blood was 
at fever heat, flushing his swarthy cheek like the purple hue 
of a hurricane. He rushed at once to the Council table, 
and seeing the Governor, saluted him, but spoke in tones 
forcibly kept under by a violent effort. 

Your Excellency and Gentlemen of the Council will 
excuse our delay,” shouted Bigot, “when I inform you 
that /, the Royal Intendant of New France, have been 
insulted, pelted, and my very life threatened by a seditious 
mob congregated in the streets of Quebec.” 

“ I grieve much, and sympathize with your Excellency’s 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


127 


indignation,” replied the Governor, warmly, “I rejoice you 
have escaped unhurt. I dispatched the troops to your 
assistance, but have not yet learned the cause of the riot.” 

“ The cause of the riot was the popular hatred of my- 
self, for enforcing the Royal ordinances, and the seditious 
example set the rabble by the notorious merchant, Phili- 
bert, who is at the bottom of all mischief in New France.” 

The Governor looked fixedly at the Intendant, as he 
replied quietly: ‘‘The Sieur Philibert, although a mer- 
chant, is a gentleman of birth and loyal principles, and 
would be the last man alive, I think, to excite a riot. Did 
you see the Bourgeois, Chevalier ? ” 

“ The crowd filled the street near his magazines, cheer- 
ing for the Bourgeois and the Golden Dog. We rode up 
and endeavored to force our way through. But I did not 
see the Bourgeois, himself, until the disturbance had at- 
tained its full proportions.” 

“ And then, your Excellency ? Surely the Bourgeois 
was not encouraging the mob, or participating in the 
riot t ” 

“ No ! I do not charge him with participating in the 
riot, although the mob were all his friends and partisans. 
Moreover,” said Bigot, frankly, for he felt he owed his 
safety to the interference of the Bourgeois, “ it would be 
unfair not to acknowledge that he. did what he could to 
protect us from the rabble. I charge Philibert with sowing 
the sedition that caused the riot, not with rioting himself.” 

“ But I accuse him of both, and of all the mob has 
done!” thundered Varin, enraged to hear the Intendant 
speak with moderation and justice. “ The house of the 
Golden Dog is a den of traitors. It ought to be pulled 
down, and its stones built into a monument of infamy, ov6r 
its owner, hung like a dog in the market-place.” 

“ Silence, Varin ! ” exclaimed the Governor sternly. 
“ I will not hear the Sieur Philibert spoken of in thes^ 
injurious terms. The Intendant does not -charge him 
with this disturbance \ neither shall you.” 

“ Par Dieii ! you shall not, Varin 1 ” burst in La Come 
St. Luc, roused to unusual wrath by the opprobrium heaped 
upon his friend the Bourgeois. , “ And you shall answer 
to me for that you have said I ” 

“ La Come 1 La Come ! ” The Governor saw a chal- 
lenge impending, and interposed with vehemence. “ This 


128 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


is a council of war, and not a place for recriminations. 
Sit down, dear old friend, and aid me to get on with the 
business of the King and his Colony, which we are here 
met to consider.” 

The appeal went to the heart of La Come. He sat 
down. ‘‘ You have spoken generously, Chevalier Bigot, 
respecting the Bourgeois Philibert,” continued the Gover- 
nor. I am pleased that you have done so. My aide- 
de-Camp, Colonel Philibert, who is just entering the 
Council, will be glad to hear that your Excellency does 
justice to his father in this matter.” 

The blessing of St. Bennet's boots upon such justice,” 
muttered Cadet to himself. ‘‘ I was a fool not to run my 
sword through Philibert, when I had the chance.” 

The Governor repeated to Colonel Philibert what had 
been said by Bigot. 

Colonel Philibert bowed to the Intendant. ‘‘ I am 
under obligation to the Chevalier Bigot,” said he, “ but 
it astonishes me much that any one should dare implicate 
my father in such a disturbance. Certainly the Intendant 
does him but justice.” 

This remark was not pleasing to Bigot, who hated 
Colonel Philibert equally with his father. ‘‘ I merely said 
he had not participated in the riot. Colonel Philibert, 
which was true. I did not excuse your father for being 
at the head of the party among whom these outrages 
arise. I simply spoke truth. Colonel Philibert. I do not 
eke out by the inch my opinion of any man. I care not 
for the Bourgeois Philibert, more than for the meanest blue 
cap in his following.” 

This was an ungracious speech. Bigot meant it to be 
such. He rei^ented almost of the witness he had borne 
to the Bourgeois’ endeavors to quell the mob. But he was 
too profoundly indifferent to men’s opinions respecting 
himself to care to lie. Truth was easier than lying, and 
suited better his moral hardihood. Not that he loved 
truth for its own sake — far from it ; but lying is born of 
cowardice, and Bigot was no coward ; he feared no one, 
respected no one. When he did lie, it was with deliberate 
purpose and without scruple, but he only did it when the 
object, in his judgment, was worth lying for, and even 
then he felt self-accused of unmanly conduct. 

Colonel Philibert resented the Intendant’s sneer at 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


129 


his father. He faced Bigot, saying to him : “ The Chev- 
alier Bigot has done but simple justice to my father with 
reference to his conduct in regard to the riot. But let the 
Intendant recollect that, although a merchant, my father is 
above all things a Norman gentleman, who never swerved 
a hair-breadth from the path of honor — a gentleman 
whose ancient nobility would dignify even the Royal 
Intendant.’’ Bigot looked daggers at this thrust at his 
own comparatively humble origin. “ And this I have 
further to say,” continued Philibert, looking straight in the 
eyes of Bigot, Varin and Cadet, “whoever impugns my 
father’s honor impugns mine ; and no man, high or low, 
shall do that and escape chastisement ! ” 

The greater part of the officers seated round the 
Council Board, listened with marks of approval to Phili- 
bert’s vindication of his father. But no one challenged 
his words, although dark ominous looks glanced from one 
to another among the friends of the Intendant. Bigot 
smothered his anger for the present, however ; and to pre- 
vent further reply from his followers, he rose, and bowing 
to the Governor, begged His Excellency to open the 
Council. 

“ We have delayed the business of the King too long 
with these personal recriminations,” said he. “ I shall 
leave this riot to be dealt v/ith by the King’s Courts, who 
will sharply punish both instigators and actors in this 
outrage upon the Royal authority.” 

These words seemed to end the dispute for the present. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE COUNCIL OF WAR 

The Council now opened in due form. The Secretary 
read the Royal despatches, which were listened to with 
attention and respect, although with looks of dissent, in 
the countenances of many of the officers. 

The Governor rose, and in a quiet, almost a solemn 
strain, addressed the Council : “ Gentlemen,” said he, 

9 


130 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


From the tenor of the Royal dispatches, just read by the 
Secretary, it is clear that our beloved New France is in 
great danger. The King, overwhelmed by the powers in 
alliance against him, can no longer reinforce our army 
here. The English fleet is supreme — for the moment 
only, I hope — ’’ added the Governor, as if with a prevision 
of his own future triumphs on the ocean. ‘‘ English troops 
are pouring into New York and Boston, to combine with 
the militid of New England and the middle colonies in a 
grand attack upon New France. They have commenced 
the erection of a great fort at Chouagen, on Lake Ontario, 
to dispute supremacy with our stronghold at Niagara, and 
the gates of Carillon may ere long liave to prove their 
strength in keeping the enemy out of the Valley of the 
Richelieu. I fear not for Carillon, gentlemen, in the 
ward of the gallant Count de Lusignan, whom I am glad 
to see at our Council. I think Carillon is safe.’’ 

The Count de Lusignan, a grey-headed officer, of 
soldierly bearing, bowed low to this compliment from the 
Governor. I ask the Count de Lusignan,” continued the 
Governor, “what he thinks would result from our with- 
drawing the garrison from Carillon, as is suggested in 
the despatches ? ” 

“ The Five Nations would be on the Richelieu in a 
week, and the English in Montreal, a month after such 
a piece of folly on our part,” exclaimed the Count de 
Lusignan. 

“ You cannot counsel the abandonment of Carillon, 
then. Count A smile played over the face of the 
Governor, as if he too felt the absurdity of his question. 

“ Not till Quebec itself fall into the enemy’s hands. 
When that happens. His Majesty will need another adviser 
in the place of the old Count de Lusignan.” 

“ Well spoken. Count ! In your hands Carillon is safe, 
and will one day, should the enemy assail it, be covered 
with wreaths of victory, and its flag be the glory of New 
France.” 

“ So be it. Governor. Give me but the Ro3^al Roussillon, 
and I pledge you neither English, Dutch, nor Iroquois, 
shall ever cross the waters of St. Sacrament.” 

“You speak like your ancestor, the crusader. Count. 
But I cannot spare the Royal Roussillon. Think you, 
YOU can hold Carillon with your present garrison ? ” 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


“Against all the force of New England. But I cannot 
promise the same against the English Regulars, now land- 
ing at New York.’’ 

“They are the same whom the king defeated at 
Fontenoy, are they not ? ” interrupted the Intendant, who, 
courtier as he was, disliked the tenor of the Royal des- 
patches as much as any officer present — all the more as 
he knew La Pompadour was advising peace out of a 
woman’s considerations, rather than upholding the glory 
*of France. 

“ Among them are many troops who fought us at 
Fontenoy. I learned the fact from an English prisoner, 
whom our Indians brought in from Fort Lydius,” replied . 
the Count de Lusignan. 

“Well, the more of them the merrier,” laughed La 
Come St. Luc. “ The bigger the prize the richer they 
who take it. The treasure chests of the English will 
make up for the beggarly packs of the New Englanders. 
Dried stock fish, and eel skin garters, to drive away the 
rheumatism, were the usual prizes we got from them down 
in Acadia ! ” 

“ The* English of Fontenoy are not such despicable 
foes,” remarked the Chevalier de Lery. “ They sufficed 
to take Louisbourg, and if we discontinue our walls, will 
suffice to take Quebec.” 

“ Louisbourg was not taken by them., but fell through 
the mutiny of the base Swiss ! ” replied Bigot, touched 
sharply by any allusion to that fortress, where he had 
figured so discreditably ; “ the vile hirelings demanded 
money of their commander, when they should have drawn 
the blood of the enemy ! ” added he angrily. 

“ Satan is bold, but he would blush in the presence of 
Bigot,” remarked La Come St. Luc to an Acadian officer, 
seated next him. “ Bigot kept the King’s treasure, and 
defrauded the soldiers of their pay : hence the mutiny and 
the fall of Louisbourg.” 

“It is what the whole army knows,” replied the officer. 
“ But hark ! the Abbe Piquet is going to speak. It is a 
new thing to see clergy in a council of war ! ” 

“No one has a better right to speak here than the 
Abbe Piquet,” replied La Come. “ No one has sent 
more Indian allies into the field to fight for New France, 
than the patriotic Abbe.” 


132 


THE CHIEN H OR 


Other officers did not share the generous sentiments of 
La Come St. Luc. They thought it derogatory to pure 
military men to listen to a priest on the affairs of the war. 

“ The Marshal de Belleisle would not permit even 
Cardinal de Fleury to put his red stockings beneath his 
Council table/’ remarked a strict martinet of La Serre. 

And here we have a whole flock of black gowns darken- 
ing our regimentals ! What would Voltaire say?” 

^ He would say, that when priests turn soldiers, it is 
time for soldiers to turn tinkers, and mend holes in pots, 
instead of making holes in our enemies,” replied his com- 
panion, a fashionable free thinker of the day. 

‘‘ Well, I am ready to turn pedlar any day ! The King’s 
army will go to the dogs fast enough since the Governor 
commissions Recollets and Jesuits to act as Royal officers,” 
was the petulant remark of another officer of La Serre. 

A strong prejudice existed in the army against the Abbe 
Piquet for his opposition to the presence of French troops 
in his Indian missionary villages. They demoralized his 
neophytes, and many of the officers shared in the lucrative 
traffic of fire water to the Indians. The Abbe \^^as zealous 
in stopping those abuses, and the officers complained bit- 
terly of his over-protection of the Indians. 

The famous King’s Missionary,” as he was called, 
stood up with an air of dignity and authority that seemed 
to assert his right to be present in the council of war, for 
the scornful glances of many of the officers had not escaped 
his quick glance. 

The keen black eyes, thin resolute lips, and high swarthy 
forehead of the Abbe, would have well become the plumed 
hat of a Marshal of France. His loose black robe, looped 
up for freedom, reminded one of a grave Senator of Venice 
whose eye never quailed at any policy, however severe, if 
required for the safety^of the state. 

The Abbe held in his hand a large roll of wampum, the 
tokens of treaties made by him with the Indian nations of 
the west, pledging their alliance and aid to the great On- 
ontio, as they called the Governor of New France. 

“ My Lord Governor ! ” said the Abbe, placing his great 
roll on the table,— “ I thank you for admitting the mis- 
sionaries to the council. We appear less as Churchmen on 
this occasion than as the King’s Ambassadors, although I 
trust that all we have done will redound to God’s gT.ory, 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


133 


and the spread of religion among the heathen. These belts 
of wampum are tokens of the treaties we have made with 
the numerous and warlike tribes of the great west. I bear 
to the Governor pledges of alliance from the Miamis and 
Shawhees of the great valley of the Belle Riviere, which 
they call the Ohio. "I am commissioned to tell Onontio, 
that they are at peace with the King and at war with his 
enemies from this time forth forever. I have set up the 
arms of France on the banks of the Belle Ri\iere, and 
claimed all its lands and waters as the just appanage of 
our sovereign from the Alleghanies to the plantations of 
Louisiana. The Sacs and Foxes, of the Mississippi ; the 
Pottawatomies, Winnebagoes and Chippewas of a hundred 
bands who fish in the great rivers and lakes of the West ; 
the warlike Ottawas who have carried the Algonquin tongue 
to the banks of Lake Erie, in short, every enemy of the 
Iroquois have pledged themselves to take the field when- 
ever the Governor shall require the axe to be dug up and 
lifted against the English and the Five Nations. Next 
summer the chiefs of all these tribes will come to Quebec 
and ratify in a solemn General Council the wampums they 
now send, by me and the other missionaries, my brothers 
in the Lord ! ” 

The Abbe, with the slow formal manner of one long ac- 
customed to the speech and usages of the Indians, un- 
rolled the belts of wampum many fathoms in length, fasten- 
ed end to end to indicate the length of the alliance of the 
various tribes with France. The Abbe interpreted their 
meaning, and with his finger pointed out the totems or 
signs manual — usually a bird, beast or fish — of the chiefs 
who had signed the roll. 

The Council looked at the wampums with intense in- 
terest, well knowing the important part these Indians were 
capable of assuming in the war with England. 

“ These are great and welcome pledges you bring us, 
Abbe,’"’ said the Governor ; “ they are proofs at once of 
your ability and of your zealous labors for the King. A 
great public duty has been ably discharged by you and your 
fellow-missionaries, whose loyalty and devotion to France 
it shall be my pleasure to lay before his Majesty. The Star 
of Hope glitters in the western horizon, to encourage us 
under the clouds of the eastern. Even the loss of Acadia, 
should it be final, will be compensated by the acquisition 


134 


THE CHIENHOR. 


of the boundless fertile territories of the Belle Riviere, and 
of the Illinois. The Abbe Piquet and his fellow mission- 
aries have won the hearts of the native tribes of the West. 
There is hope now at last of uniting New France with 
Louisiana in one unbroken chain of French territory.’’ 

‘‘It has been my ambition, since His Majesty honored 
me with the Government of New France, to acquire posses- 
sion of those vast territories, covered with forests old as 
time, and in soil rich and fertile as Provence and 
Normandy.” 

“ I have served the King all my life,” continued the 
Governor, “ and served him with honor and even distinc- 
tion ; permit me to say this much of myself.” 

He spoke in a frank, manly way, for vanity prompted no 
part of his speech. “ Many great services have I rendered 
my country, but I feel that the greatest service I could yet 
do Old France or New, would be the planting of ten thousand 
sturdy peasants and artisans of France in the valley of the 
far West, to make its forests vocal with the speech of our 
native land.” 

“ This present war may end suddenly ; I think it will. 
The late victory at Lawfelt has stricken the allies under the 
Duke of Cumberland, a blow, hard as Fontenoy. Rumors 
of renewed negotiations for peace are flying thick through 
Europe. God speed the peacemakers, and bless them, I 
say ! With peace comes opportunity. Then, if ever, if 
France be true to herself, and to her heritage in the New 
World, she will people the valley of the Ohio and secure 
forever her supremacy in America ! ” 

“ But our forts far and near must be preserved in the 
meantime. We must not withdraw from one foot of French 
territory. Quebec must be walled and made safe against 
all attack by land or water. I therefore will join the coun- 
cil in a respectful remonstrance to the Count de Maurepas, 
against the inopportune despatches just received from His 
Majesty. I trust the Royal Intendant will favor the coun- 
cil now with his opinion on this important matter, and I shall 
be happy to have the cooperation of His Excellency in 
measures of such vital consequence to the Colony and to 
France.” 

The Governor sat down, after courteously motioning the 
Intendant to rise and address the Council. 

The Intendant hated the mention of peace. His inter 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


135 

ests and the interests of his associates of the Grand Com- 
pany were all involved in the prolongation of the war. 

War enabled the Grand Company to monopolize the 
trade and military expenditure of New France. The enorm- 
ous fortunes its members made and spent with such reck- 
less prodigality would by peace be dried up in their 
source. The yoke would be thrown off the people’s neck, 
trade would be again free. 

Bigot was far-sighted enough to see that clamors would 
be raised and listened to in the leisure of peace. Pros- 
ecutions for illegal exactions might follow, and all the 
support of his friends at Court might not be able to save 
him and his associates from ruin — perhaps punishment. 

The Parliaments of Paris, Rouen and Brittany still re- 
tained a shadow of independence. It was only a shadow, 
but the fury of Jansenism supplied the lack of political 
courage ; and men opposed the Court and its policy under 
pretence of defending the rights of the Gallic Church and 
the old religion of the nation. 

Bigot knew he was safe so long as the Marquise de 
Pompadour governed the King and the Kingdom. But 
Louis XV. was capricious and unfaithful in his fancies ; he 
had changed his mistresses and his policy with them many 
times, and might change once more, to the ruin of Bigot 
and all the dependents of La Pompadour. 

Bigot’s letters by the Fleur de Lys were calculated to 
alarm him. A rival was springing up at Court to challenge 
La Pompadour’s supremacy. The fair and fragile Lange 
Vaubernier had already attracted the King’s eye ; and the 
courtiers versed in his ways read the incipient signs of a 
future favorite. 

Little did the laughing Vaubernier foresee the day 
when, as Madame du Barry, she would reign as Dame du 
Palais, after the death of La Pompadour. Still less could 
she imagine that, in her old age, in the next reign, she 
would be dragged to the guillotine, filling the streets of 
Paris with her shrieks, heard above the bowlings of the mob 
of the Revolution : “ Give me life 1 life ! for my repentance ! 
Life ! to devote it to the Republic ! Life ! for the^ surrender 
of all my wealth to the nation ! ” And death, not life, was 
given in answer to her passionate pleadings. 

These dark days were yet in the womb of the future, 
however. The giddy Vaubernier was at this time gayly 


THE CHIENHOR, 


136 

catching at the heart of the King ; but her procedure filled 
the mind of Bigot with anxiety. The fall of La Pompadour 
would entail swift ruin upon himself and associates. He 
knew it was the intrigues of this girl which had caused La 
Pompadour suddenly to declare for peace in order to watch 
the King more surely in his palace. Therefore the word 
peace and the name of Vaubernier, were equally odious to 
Bigot, and he was perplexed in no small degree how to 
act. 

Moreover, be it confessed, that although a bad man and 
a corrupt statesman. Bigot was a Frenchman, proud of the 
national success and glory. While robbing her treasures 
with one hand, he was ready with his sword in the other to 
give life and all in her defence. Bigot was bitterly op- 
posed to English supremacy in North America. The loss 
of Louisbourg, though much his fault, stung him to the 
quick, as a triumph of the national enemy ; and in those 
final days of New France, after the fall of Montcalm, Bigot 
was the last man to yield, and when all others counselled 
retreat, he would not consent to the surrender of Quebec to 
the English. 

To-day, in the Council of War, Bigot stood up to re- 
spond to the appeal of the Governor. He glanced his eye 
coolly, yet respectfully, over the Council. His raised hand 
sparkled with gems, the gifts of courtiers and favorites of the 
King. Gentlemen of the Council of War! said he — I 
approve with all my heart of the words of His Excellency, 
the Governor, with reference to our fortifications and the 
maintenance of our frontiers. It is our duty to remonstrate, 
as councillors of the King in the Colony, against the tenor 
of the despatches of the Count de Maurepas. The City of 
Quebec, properly fortified, will be equivalent to an army of 
men in the field, and the security and defence of the 
whole Colony depend upon its walls. There can be but 
one intelligent opinion in the Council on that point, and 
that opinion should be laid before His Majesty before this 
despatch be acted on.’^ 

‘‘ The pressure of the war is great upon us just now. The 
loss of the fleet of the Marquis de la Jonquiere, has greatly 
interrupted our communications with France, and Canada 
is left much to its own resources. But Frenchmen 1 the 
greater the peril, the greater the glory of our defence ! And 
I feel a lively confidence,” — Bigot glanced proudly round 
the table at the brave, animated faces that turned towards 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


137 


him — ‘‘ I feel a lively confidence that in the skill, devotion 
and gallantry of the officers I see around this Council table, 
we shall be able to repel all our enemies, and bear the 
Royal flag to fresh triumphs in North America.” 

This timely flattery was not lost upon the susceptible 
minds of the officers present, who testified their approval 
by vigorous tapping on the table, and cries of ‘‘ Well said ! 
Chevalier Intendant !” 

“ I thank, heartily, the venerable Abbe Piquet,” con- 
tinued he, ‘‘for his glorious success in converting the war- 
like savages of the West, from foes to fast friends of the 
King ; and, as Royal Intendant, 1 pledge the Abbe all my 
help in the establishment of his proposed Fort and Mission 
at La Presentation, for the purpose of dividing the power 
of the Iroquois.” 

“That is right well said, if the devil said it !” remarked 
La Come St. Luc, to the Acadian sitting next him.^ 
“ There is bell-metal in Bigot, and he rings well, if properly 
struck. Pity so clever a fellow should be a knave ! ” 

“ Fine words butter no parsnips, Chevalier La Come,” 
replied the Acadian, whom no eloquence could soften. 

“ Bigot sold Louisbourg ! ” This was a common but erro- 
neous opinion in Acadia. 

“Bigot butters his own parsnips well. Colonel,” re- 
plied La Come St. Luc — “ but I did not think he would 
have gone against the despatches ! It is the first time he 
ever opposed Versailles ! There must be something in the 
wind ! A screw loose somewhere, or another woman in the 
case ! But hark, he is going on again ! ” 

The Intendant, after examining some papers, entered 
into a detail of the resources of the Colony, the number of 
men capable of bearing arms, the munitions and material of 
war in the magazines, and the relative strength of each dis- 
trict of the Province. He manipulated his figures with the 
dexterity of an Indian juggler throwing balls ; and at the 
end brought out a totality of force in the Colony capable, 
unaided, of prolonging the war for two years, against all 
the powers of the English. 

At the conclusion of his speech. Bigot took his seat. 
He had made a favorable impression upon the Council ; 
and even his most strenuous opponents admitted that on 
the whole the Intendant had spoken like an able adminis- 
trator and a true Frenchman. 

Cadet and Varin supported their chief warmly. Bad 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


138 

as they were, both in private life and public conduct, they 
lacked neither shrewdness nor courage. They plundered 
their country — but were ready to fight for it against the 
national enemy. 

Other officers followed in succession. Men whose 
names were already familiar, or destined to become glori- 
ous in New France — La Come St. Luc, Celeron de Bien- 
ville, Colonel Philibert, the Chevalier de Beaujeu, the 
De Villiers, Le Gardeur de St. Pierre and De Lery. One 
and all supported that view of the despatches taken by the 
Governor and the Intendant. All agreed upon the necessity 
of completing the walls of Quebec, and of making a deter- 
mined stand at every point of the frontier against the threat- 
ened invasion. In case of the sudden patching up of a 
peace by the negotiators at Aix La Chapelle — as really 
happened — on the terms of uti possidetis^ it was of vital 
importance that New France held fast to every shred of 
her territory, both East and West. 

Long and earnest were the deliberations of the Council 
of war. The reports of the commanding officers, from all 
points of the frontier, were carefully studied. Plans of 
present defence and future conquest were discussed with 
reference to the strength and weakness of the Colony \ and 
an accurate knowledge of the forces and designs of the 
English, obtained from the disaffected remnant of Crom- 
wellian republicans in New England, whose hatred to 
the Crown ever outweighed their loyalty, and who kept up 
a traitorous correspondence for purposes of their own, 
with the Governors of New France. 

The lamps were lit and burned far into the night, when 
the Council broke up. The most part of the officers par- 
took of a cheerful refreshment with the Governor, before 
they retired to their several quarters. Only Bigot and his 
friends declined to sup with the Governor. They took a 
polite leave, and rode away from the Chateau to the Palais 
of the Intendant, where a more gorgeous repast, and more 
congenial company awaited them. 

The wine flowed freely at the Intendant’s table ; and as 
the irritating events of the day were recalled to memory, 
the pent up wrath of the Intendant broke forth. “ Damn 
the Golden Dog and his master both ! ’’ exclaimed he. 
‘‘ Philibert shall pay with his life for the outrage of to-day, 
or I will lose mine ! The dirt is not off my coat yet. 
Cadet ! said he, as he pointed to a spatter of mud upon 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


139 

his breast. ‘‘ A pretty medal that for the Intendant to wear 
in a Council of war ! ’’ 

‘‘ Council of war ! replied Cadet, setting his goblet 
down with a bang upon the polished table, after draining 
it to ihe bottom. “ I would like to go through that mob 
again ! and I would pull an oar in the galleys of Marseilles, 
rather than be questioned, with that air of authority, by a 
botanizing quack like La Galissoniere ! Such villanous 
questions as he asked me about the state of the Royal 
magazines ! La Galissoniere had more the air of a judge 
cross-examining a culprit, than of a Governor asking infor- 
mation of a king’s officer ! ” 

‘‘ True, Cadet ! ” replied Varin, who was always a flat- 
terer, and who at last, saved his ill-gotten wealth by the 
surrender of his wife as a love-gift to the Due de Choiseul. 
‘‘We all have our own injuries to bear. The Intendant 
was just showing us the spot of dirt cast upon him by the 
mob ; and I ask what satisfaction he has asked in the Coun- 
cil for the insult ” 

“ Ask satisfaction ! ” replied Cadet with a laugh ! “ Let 
him take it ! Satisfaction ! We will all help him ! But I 
say that the hair of the dog that bit him will alone cure 
the bite ! What I laughed at the most was, this morn- 
ing at Beaumanoir, to see how coolly that whelp of the 
Golden Dog, young Philibert, walked off with De Repen- 
tigny from the very midst of all the Grand Company ! ” 

“ We shall lose our young neophyte, I doubt. Cadet ! 
I was a fool to let him go with Philibert ! ” remarked 
Bigot. 

“ Oh, I am not afraid of losing him, we hold him by a 
strong triple cord, spun by the Devil. No fear of losing 
him ! ’’ answered Cadet, grinning good humouredly. 

“ What do you mean. Cadet ? ” The Intendant took 
up his cup, and drank very nonchalantly, as if he thought 
little of Cadet’s view of the matter. “ What triple-cord 
binds De Repentigny to us ? ” 

“ His love of wine, his love of gaming, and his love of 
women ! — or rather his love of a woman, which is the strong- 
est strand in the string for a young fool like him, who is 
always chasing virtue, and hugging vice ! ” 

“ Oh 1 a woman has got him ! eh. Cadet ? pray who is 
she ? When once a woman catches a fellow by the gills, 
he is a dead mackerel : his fate is fixed for good or bad 


THE CHIEISr D'OR. 


140 

in this world. But who is she, Cadet? — she must be a 
clever one,” said Bigot, sententiousiy ! 

“ So she is ! and she is too clever for young De Repen- 
tigny \ She has got her pretty fingers in his gills, and can 
carry her fish to whatever market she chooses ! ” 

“ Cadet ! Cadet ! Out with it ! ” repeated a dozen voices. 

Yes, out with it ! ” repeated Bigot, we are all compan- 
ions under the rose and there are no secrets here about 
wine, or women ! ” 

Well I would not give a filbert for all the women born 
since mother Eve ! ” said Cadet, flinging a nut-shell at the 
ceiling. “ But this is a rare one, I must confess.” Now 
stop ! Don’t cry out again ^ Cadet ! out with it ! ’ and I will 
tell you ! what think you of the fair, jolly Mademoiselle 
des Meloises .^ ” 

Angelique ? Is De Repentigny in love with her ? ” 
Bigot looked quite interested now. 

‘‘ In love with her ? He would go on all fours after 
her, if she wanted him ! He does almost as it is.” 

Bigot placed a finger on his brow, and pondered for a 
moment. “ You say well. Cadet ; if De Repentigny has 
fallen in love with that girl, he is ours for ever ! Angelique 
des Meloises never lets go her ox until she offers him up 
as a burnt offering ! The Honnetes gens will lose one of 
the best trouts in their stream, if Angelique has the tick- 
ling of him ! ” 

Bigot did not seem to be quite pleased with Cadet^s in- 
formation. He rose from his seat somewhat flushed, and 
excited by this talk respecting Angelique des Meloises. 
He walked up and down the room a few turns, recovered 
his composure, and sat down again. 

Come, gentlemen,” said he ; too much care wLl 
kill a cat ! Let us change our talk to a merrier tune ; fill up, 
and we will drink to the loves of De Repentigny, and the 
fair Angelique ! I am much mistaken if we do not find in 
her the Dea ex Machina^ to help us out of our trouble with 
the honnetes gens 

The glasses were filled and emptied. Cards and dice 
were then called for. The company drew their chairs into 
a closer circle round the table ; deep play, and deeper 
drinking set in. The Palais resounded with revelry, until 
the morning sun looked into the great window, blushing 
red at the scene of drunken riot, that had become habitual 
in the Palace of the Intendant. 


THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE, 


141 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE. 

The few words of S3^mpathy dropped by Bigot in the 
Secret Chamber, had fallen like manna on the famine of 
Caroline’s starving affections, as she remained on the sofa 
where she had half-fallen, pressing her bosom with her 
hands, as if a new-born thought lay there. ‘‘ I am sure he 
meant it ! ” repeated she to herself. ‘‘ I feel that his words 
were true, and for the moment his look and tone were 
those of my happy maiden days in Acadia ! I was too 
proud then of my fancied power, and thought Bigot’s love 
deserved the surrender of my very conscience to his keep- 
ing. I forgot God in my love for him ; and, alas for me ! 
that now is part of my punishment ! I feel not the sin of 
loving him ! My penitence is not sincere, when I can still 
rejoice in his smile ! Woe is me ! Bigot ! Bigot ! unworthy 
as thou art, I cannot forsake thee ! I would willingly die 
at thy feet, only spurn me not away, nor give to another the 
love that belongs to me, and for which I have paid the 
price of my immortal souH ” 

She relapsed into a train of bitter reflections, as her 
thoughts reverted to herself. Silence had been gradually 
creeping through the house. The noisy debauch was at an 
end. There were trampings, voices, and foot-falls, for a 
while longer, and then they died away. Everything ' was 
still, and silent as the grave. She knew the feast was 
over, and the guests departed ; but not whether Bigot had 
accompanied them. 

She sprang up as a low knock came to her door, think- 
ing it was he, come to bid her adieu. It was with a feeling 
of disappointment, she heard the voice of Dame Tremblay 
saying : “ My Lady, may I enter ? ” 

Caroline ran her fingers through her disordered hair, 
pressed her handkerchief into her ejxs, and hastily tried to 
obliterate every trace of her recent agony. She bade her 
enter. 

Dame Tremblay, shrewd as became the whilome 
Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport, had a kind heart, 


142 


THE CHIENHOR. 


nevertheless, under her old fashioned bodice. She sin- 
cerely pitied this young creature, who was passing her days 
in prayer, and her nights in weeping, although she might 
rather blame her in secret, for not appreciating better the 
honor of a residence at Beaumanoir and the friendship of 
the Intendant. 

I do not think she is prettier than I, when I was the 
Charming Josephine ! thought the old Dame. “I did not 
despise Beaumanoir in those days, and why should she 
now? But she will be neither maid nor mistress here long, 
I am thinking I ’’ The Dame saluted the young lady with 
great deference, and quietly asked if she needed her ser- 
vice. 

“ OhJ it is you, good Dame ’’ — Caroline answered her 
own thoughts, rather than the question. ‘‘Tell me what 
makes this unusual silence in the Chateau?’’ 

“ The Intendant and all the guests have gone to the 
city, my Lady. A great officer of the Governor’s came 
to summon them. To be sure, not many of them were fit to 
go, but after a deal of bathing and dressing, the gentle- 
men got off. Such a clatter of horsemen, as they rode out, 
I never heard before, my Lady j you must have heard them 
even here I ” 

“ Yes, Dame 1 ” replied Caroline, “ I heard it ; and the 
Intendant, has he accompanied them ? ” 

“Yes, my Lady; the freshest and foremost cavalier of 
them all. Wine and late hours never hurt the Intendant. 
It is for that I praise him, for he is a gallant gentleman, 
who knows what politeness is to women.” 

Caroline shrank a little at the thought expressed by the 
Dame. “ What causes you to say that ? ” asked she. 

“ I will tell, my Lady ! ‘ Dame Tremblay ! ’ said he, just 
before he left the Chateau. ‘ Dame Tremblay.’ He al- 
ways calls me that when he is formal, but sometimes when 
he is merry, he calls me ‘Charming Josephine,’ in remem- 
brance of my young days ; concerning which he has heard 
flattering stories, I daresay — ” 

“ In heaven’s name ! go on. Dame ! ” Caroline, depress- 
ed as she was, felt the Dame’s garrulity like a pinch on 
her impatience. “ What said the Intendant to you, on 
leaving the Chateau ? ” 

’“ Oh, he spoke to me of you quite feelingly ; that is, 
bade me take the utmost care of the poor lady in the se- 


THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE. 


143 


cret chamber. I was to give you everything you wished, 
and keep off all visitors, if such were your own desire.’’ 

A train of powder does not catch fire from a spark 
more quickly than Caroline’s imagination from these few 
words of the old housekeeper. ‘‘ Did he say that, good 
Dame ? God bless you, and bless him for these words ! ” 
Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of his tenderness, 
which, although half fictitious, she wholly believed. 

‘‘ Yes, Dame ! ” continued she. It is my most earnest 
desire to be secluded from all visitors. I wish to see no 
one, but yourself. Have you many visitors, ladies I mean, 
at the Chateau 1 ’’ 

“ Oh yes ; the ladies of the city are not likely to forget 
the invitations to the balls and dinners of the bachelor 
Intendant of New France. It is the most fashionable 
thing in the city, and every lady is wild to attend them. 
There is one, the handsomest and gayest of them all, who 
they say, would not object even to become the bride of the 
Intendant.” 

It was a careless shaft of the old Dame’s, but it went 
to the heart of Caroline. ‘‘ Who is she, good Dame ? — pray 
tell me ! ” 

Oh, my Lady, I should fear her anger, if she knew what 
I say. She is the most terrible coquette in the city. Wor- 
shipped by the men, and hated of course, by the women, 
who all imitate her in dress and -style, as much as they pos- 
sibly can, because they see it takes ! But every woman 
fears for either husband or lover, when Angelique des Me- 
loises is her rival.” 

‘‘ Is that her name ? I never heard it before. Dame ! ” 
remarked Caroline, with a shudder. She felt instinctively 
that the name was one of direful omen to herself. 

“ Pray God you may never have reason to hear it again,” 
replied Dame Tremblay. “She it was who went to the 
mansion of the Sieur Tourangeau, and with her riding whip 
lashed the mark of a red cross upon the forehead of his 
daughter, Cecile, scarring her forever; because she had 
presumed to smile kindly upon a young officer, a handsome 
fellow, Le Gardeur de Repentigny, whom any woman 
might be pardoned for admiring ! ” added the old Dame, 
with a natural touch of the candor of her youth. “ If An- 
gelique takes a fancy to the Intendant, it will be danger- 
ous for any other woman to stand in her way ! ” 


144 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


Caroline gave a frightened look, at the Dame’s descrip- 
tion of a possible rival in the Intendant’s love. ‘‘You 
know more of her, Dame ! Tell me all ! Tell me the worst 
I have to learn ! ” pleaded the poor girl. 

“ The worst, my Lady ! I fear no one can tell the worst 
of Angelique des Meloises ; at least would not dare to. 
Although I know nothing bad of her, except that she would 
like to have all the men to herself, and so spite all the wo- 
men ! ” 

“ But she must regard that young officer, with more than 
common affection, to have acted so savagely to Mademoi- 
selle Tourangeau ?” Caroline, with a woman’s quickness, 
had caught at that gleam of hope through the darkness. 

“O yes, my Lady. All Quebec knows that Angelique 
loves the Seigneur de Repentigny, for nothing is a secret 
in Quebec, if more than one person knows it, as I myself 
well recollect; for when I was the Charming Josephine, my 
very whispers were all over the city by the next .dinner hour ; 
and repeated at every table, as gentlemen cracked their 
almonds, and drank their wine in toasts to the Charming 
Josephine.” 

“ Pshaw ! Dame ! Tell me about the Seigneur de Re- 
pentigny ! Does Angelique des Meloises love him, think 
you } ” Caroline’s eyes were fixed like stars upon the 
Dame, awaiting her reply. 

“ It takes women to read women, they say,” replied the 
Dame, “ and every lady in Quebec would swear that Ange- 
lique loves the Seigneur de Repentigny ; but I know that 
if she can, she will marry the Intendant, whom she has 
fairly bewitched with her wit and beauty, and you know a 
clever woman can marry any man she pleases, if she only 
goes the right way about it ; men are such fools ! ” 

Caroline grew faint. Cold drops gathered on her brow. 
A veil of mist floated before her eyes. “Water! good 
Dame I water I ” she articulated, after several efforts. 

Dame Tremblay ran and got her a drink of water, and 
such restoratives as were at hand. The Dame was profuse 
in words of sympathy. She had gone through life with a 
light, lively spirit, as became the Charming Josephine, but 
never lost the kindly heart that was natural to her. 

Caroline rallied from her faintness. “ Have you seen 
what you tell me Dame ? or is it but the idle gossip of the 
city, no truth in it ? Oh, say it is the idle gossip of the 


THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE. 


T45 


City ! Frangois Bigot is not going to marry this lady ! He 
is not so faithless — to me/’ she was about to add, but did 
not. 

“ So faithless to her, she means, poor soul ! ” solilo- 
quized the Dame. “ It is but little you know my gay mas- 
ter, if you think he values a promise made to any woman, 
except to deceive her ! I have seen too many birds of that 
feather, not to know a hawk from beak to claw. When I 
was the Charming Josephine, I took the measure of men’s 
professions, and never was deceived but once. Men’s 
promises are big as clouds, and as empty and as unsta- 
ble ! ” 

‘‘My good Dame, I am sure you have a kind heart,” 
said Caroline in reply to a sympathizing pressure of the 
hand. “ But you do not know, you cannot imagine _ what 
injustice you do the Intendant ! ’’ — Caroline hesitated and 
blushed, “ by mentioning the report of his marriage with 
that lady. Men speak untruly of him — ” 

“ My dear Lady. It is what the women say, that 
frightens one. The men are angry, and wont believe it, 
but the women are jealous, and will believe it even if 
there be nothing in it ! As a faithful servant, I ought to have 
no eyes to watch my master, but I have not failed to ob- 
serve that the Chevalier Bigot is caught man-fashion, if 
not husband-fashion, in the snares of the artful Angelique. 
But may I speak my real opinion to you, my Lady ? ” 

Caroline was eagerly watching the lips of the garrulous 
dame. She started, brushed back with a stroke of her 
hand the thick hair that had fallen over her ear : “ Oh, 
speak all your thoughts, good Dame ! If your next words 
were to kill me — speak them ! ” 

“ My next words will not harm you, my Lady ! ” said she, 
with a meaning smile. “ If you will accept the opinion of 
an old woman, who learned the ways of men, when she 
was the Charming Josephine ! You must not conclude 
that because the Chevalier Intendant admires, or even 
loves Angelique des Meloises, he is going to marry her. 
That is not the fashion of these times. Men love beauty 
and marry money. I^ove is more plenty than matrimony, 
both at Paris and at Quebec, at Versailles as well as at 
Beaumanoir, or even at Lake Beauport, as I learned to my 
cost, when I was the Charming Josephine ! ” 

Caroline blushed crimson, at the remark of Dame 
10 


THE CHIEND'OR, 


146 

Tremblay. Her voice quivered with emotion : It is sin 
to cheapen love like that, Dame ! and yet I know we have 
sometimes to bury our love in our heart, with no hope of 
resurrection.” 

‘‘ Sometimes ? almost always, my Lady ! When I was 
the Charming Josephine — nay, listen, lady — my story is in- 
structive.” Caroline composed herself to hear the darnels 
recital. “When I was the Charming Josephine of Lake 
Beauport, I began by believing that men were angels, sent 
for the salvation of us women. I thought that love was a 
better passport than money to lead to matrimony ; but I 
was a fool for my fancy ! I had a good score of lovers 
any day. The gallants praised my beauty, and it was the 
envy of the city ; they flattered me for my wit, nay, even 
fought duels for my favor, and called m€ the Charming 
Josephine ! — but not one offered to marry me ! At twenty, 
I ran away for love, and was forsaken. At thirty, I married 
for money, and was rid of all my illusions. At forty, I 
came as house-keeper to Beaumanoir, and have live'd here 
comfortably ever since. I know what Royal Intendants 
are ! Old Hocquart wore night-caps in the day time, took 
snuff every minute, and jilted a lady in France, because she 
had not the dower of a duchesse to match his hoards of 
wealth ! The Chevalier Bigot's black eye and jolly laugh 
draw after him all the girls of the city, but not one will 
catch him ! Angelique des Meloises is first in his favor, 
but I see it is as clear as print in the eye of the Intendant, 
that he will never marry her — and you will prevent him, my 
Lady ! ” 

“III prevent him ! ” exclaimed Caroline in amazement. 
“ Alas ! good Dame, you little knowhow lighter than thistle 
down floating on the wind, is my influence with the Intend- 
ant.” 

“ You do yourself injustice, my Lady. Listen ! I never 
saw a more pitying glance fall from the eye of man, than 
the Intendant cast upon you, one day, when he saw you 
kneeling in your oratory, unconscious of his presence. 
His lips quivered, and a tear gathered under his thick eye- 
lashes, as he silently withdrew. I heard him mutter a 
blessing upon you, and curses upon La Pompadour, for 
coming between him and his heart's desire. I was a faith- 
ful servant, and kept my counsel. I could see, however, 
that the Intendant thought more of the lovely lady of 


THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE. 


147 

Beaumanoir, than of all the ambitious demoiselles of 
Quebec.” 

Caroline sprang up, and casting off the deep reserve 
she had maintained, threw her arms round the neck of 
Dame Tremblay, and half choked with emotion, exclaimed : 

‘‘ Is that true ? good, dear friend of friends ! Did the 
Chevalier Bigot bless me, and curse La Pompadour for 
coming between him and his heart’s desire ? His heart’s 
desire ! but you do not know — ^you cannot guess, what that 
means. Dame?” 

“ As if I did not know a man’s heart’s desire ! but I am 
a woman, and can guess ! I was not the Charming Jose- 
phine, for nothing, good lady ! ” replied the Dame, smiling, 
as the enraptured girl laid her fair, smooth cheek upon 
that of the old house-keeper. 

And did he look so pityingly as you describe, and 
bless me as I was praying, unwitting of his presence ? ” 
repeated she, with a look that searched the Dame 
through and through. 

“ He did, my Lady ; he looked, just then, as a man looks 
upon a woman whom he really loves. I know how men 
look Avhen they really love us, and when they only pretend 
to ! No deceiving me ! ” added she. ‘‘ When I was the 
Charming Josephine — ” 

Ave Maria said Caroline, crossing herself, with 
deep devotion, not heeding the Dame’s reminiscences of 
Lake Beauport — “ Heaven has heard my prayers ; I can 
die happy ! ” 

“ Heaven forbid you should die at all, my lady ! You, 
die ! The Intendant loves you. I see it in his face, that 
he will never marry Angelique des Meloises. He may 
indeed, marry a great Marchioness, with her lap full of 
gold and chateaux — that is, if the King commands him. 
That is how the grand gentlemen of the Court marry. They 
wed rank, and love beauty. The heart to one, the hand to 
another. It would be my way, too, were I a man, and 
women so simple as we all are. If a girl cannot marry 
for love, she will marry for money ; and if not for money, 
she can always marry for spite. — I did, when I was the 
Charming Josephine ! ” 

It is a shocking and a sinful way, to marry without 
love ! ” said Caroline warmly. » 

“ It is better than no way at all 1 ” replied the Dame, 


148 


THE CHIENHOR. 


regretting her remark when she saw her lajy’s face flush 
like crimson. The Dame’s opinions were rather the worse 
for wear, in her long journey through life, and would not 
be adopted by a jury of prudes. When I was the Charm- 
ing Josephine,” continued she, ‘‘I had the love of half the 
gallants of Quebec, but not one offered his hand. What 
was I to do ? ‘ Crook a finger, or love and linger,’ as they 
say in Alengon, where I was born ? ” 

“ Fie, Dame ! Don’t say such things ! ” said Caroline, 
with a shamed, reproving look. ‘‘ I would think better of 
the Intendant.” Her gratitude led her to imagine ex- 
cuses for him. The few words reported to her by Dame 
Tremblay, she repeated with silently moving lips and tender 
reiteration. They lingered in her ear like the fugue of a 
strain of music, sung by a choir of angelic spirits. “ Those 
were his very words. Dame ? ” added she again, repeating 
them — not for inquiry, but for secret joy. 

His very words, my Lady ! But why should the Royal 
Intendant not have his heart’s desire, as well as that great 
lady in France } If any one had forbidden my marrying 
the poor Sieur Tremblay, for whom I did not care two 
pins, I would have had him for spite — yes, if I had had to 
marry him as the crows do, on a tree-top ! ” 

“ But no one bade you or forbade you. Dame ! You 
were happy, that no one came between you and your heart’s 
desire ! ” replied Caroline. 

Dame Tremblay laughed out merrily at the idea, — - 
“Poor Giles Tremblay,' my-heart’s desire ! Listen, Lady, I 
could no more get that than you could. When I was the 
Charming Josephine, there was but one, out of all my ad- 
mirers, whom I really cared for, and he, poor fellow, had a 
wife already ! So what was I to do ? I threw my line at 
last in utter despair, and out of the troubled sea, I drew 
the Sieur Tremblay, whom I married, and soon put cosily 
underground, with a heavy tombstone on top of him to 
keep him down, with this inscription, which you may see 
for yourself, my Lady, if you will, in the churchyard where 
he lies. 


‘ Ci git mon Giles, 
Ah ! qu’il est bien, 
Pour son repos. 

Ft pour le mien ! ’ 


THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE 


149 


Men are like my Angola Tabby., Stroke them smoothly 
and they will purr and rub noses with you ; but stroke them 
the wrong way, and whirr ! they scratch your hands and 
out of the window they fly ! When I was the Charming — ’’ 

“ O, good Dame, thanks ! thanks ! for the comfort you 
have given me ! ’’ interrupted Caroline, not caring for a 
fresh reminiscence of the Charming Jos^ephine. ‘‘ Leave 
me, I pray — my mind is in a sad tumult. I would fain 
rest— I have much to fear, but something also to hope for 
now,’’ she said, leaning back in her chair, in deep and 
quiet thought. 

‘‘ The Chateau is very still now, my Lady,” replied the 
Dame, “The servants are all worn out with long attend- 
ance, and fast asleep. Let my Lady go to her own apart- 
ments, which are bright and airy. It will be better for 
her than this dull chamber.” 

“ True, Dame ! ” Caroline rose at the suggestion. “I 
like not this secret chamber. It suited my sad mood, 
but now I seem to long for air and sunshine.. I will go 
with you to my own room.” 

They ascended the winding stair, and Caroline seated 
herself by the window of her own chamber, overlooking the 
park and gardens of the Chateau. The huge sloping forests 
upon the mountain side, formed, in the distance,- with the 
blue sky above it, a landscape of beauty, upon which her 
eyes lingered with a sense of freshness and delight. 

Dame Tremblay left her to her musings, to go, she said, 
to rouse up the lazy maids and menservants, to straighten 
up the confusion of everything in the Chateau after the 
late long feast. • 

On the great stair, she encountered Mons. Froumois, 
the Intendant’s valet, a favorite gossip of the Dame’s, who 
used to invite him into her snug parlor, where she regaled 
him with tea and cake, or, if late in the evening, with wine 
and nipperkins of Cognac, while he poured into her ear 
stories of the gay life of Paris, and the bonnes fortunes of 
himself and master — ^for the valet in plush, would have 
disdained being less successful among the maids in the 
servants’ hall, than his master in velvet, in the boudoirs of 
their mistresses. 

Mons. Froumois accepted the Dame’s invitation, and 
the two were presently engaged in a melee of gossip over 
the savings and doings of fashionable society in Quebec. 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


150 

The Dame, holding between her thumb and finger a 
little china cup of tea, well laced, she called it, with Cognac, 
remarked : “ They fairly run the Intendant down, Froumois ! 
There is not a girl in the city but laces her boots to dis- 
traction since it came out that the Intendant admires a 
neat, trim ankle. I had a trim ankle myself when I was 
the Charming Josephine, Mons. Froumois ! ’’ 

“ And you have yet, Dame, — If I am a judge ’’ — re- 
plied Froumois, glancing down with an air of gallantry. 

And you are accounted a judge — and ought to be a 
good one, Froumois 1 A gentleman can’t live at court as 
you have done, and learn nothing of the points of a fine 
woman ! ” The good Dame liked a compliment as well as 
ever she had done at Lake Beauport in her hey-day of 
youth and beauty. 

Why, no, Dame,” replied he ; one can’t live at court 
and learn nothing ! We study the points of fine women as 
we do fine statuary in the gallery of the Louvre. Only the 
living beauties will compel us to see their best points, if 
they have them.” Mons. Froumois looked very critical, as 
he took a pinch from the Dame’s box, which she held out 
to him. Her hand and wrist were yet unexceptionable, as 
he could not. help remarking. 

But what think you, really, of our Quebec beauties ? 
Are they not a good imitation of Versailles ? ” asked the 
Dame. 

‘‘ A good imitation ! They are the real porcelain ! For 
beauty and affability, Versailles cannot exceed them. So 
says the Intendant, and so say I,” replied the gay valet. 

Why, look you. Dame Tremblay,” continued he, extend- 
ing his well-ringed fingers. They do give gentlemen no 
end of hopes here ! We have only to stretch out our ten 
digits and a lady bird will light on every one of them ! It 
was so at Versailles — it is just so here. The ladies in 
Quebec do know how to appreciate a real gentleman ! ” 

“Yes, that is what makes the ladies of Ville Marie so 
jealous and angry,” replied the Dame ; “ the King’s officers 
and all the great catches land at Quebec first, when they 
come out from. France ; and we take toll of them ! We 
don’t let a gentleman of them get up to Ville Marie with- 
out a Quebec engagement tacked to his back, so that all 
Ville Marie can read it, and die of pure spite ! I say we, 
Froumois ; but you understand I speak of myself only as 


THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE, 


^51 

the Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport. I must con- 
tent myself now with telling over my past glories.’’ 

‘^Well, Dame, I don’t know. But you are glorious yet ! 
But tell me, what has got over my master to-day ? Was the un- 
known lady unkind .^ Something has angered him, I am sure !” 

‘‘ I cannot tell you, Froumois ! Women’s moods are not 
to be explained, even by themselves.” The Dame had 
been sensibly touched by Caroline’s confidence in her, and 
she was too loyal to her sex to repeat even to Froumois 
her recent conversation with Caroline. 

They found plenty of other topics, however, and over 
the tea and Cognac, the Dame and valet passed an hour 
of delightful gossip. 

Caroline, left to the solitude of her chamber, sat silent- 
ly with her hands clasped in her lap. Her thoughts pressed 
inward upon her. . She looked out without seeing the fair 
landscape before her eyes. 

Tears and sorrow she had welcomed in a spirit of bit- 
ter penitence for her fault in loving one who no longer re- 
garded her. I do not deserve any man’s regard,” mur- 
mured she, as she laid her soul on the rack of self-accusa- 
tion, and wrung its tenderest fibres with the pitiless rigor 
of a secret inquisitor. She utterly condemned herself, 
while still trying to find some excuse for.her unworthy lov- 
er. At times a cold half persuasion fluttering like a bird 
in the snow, came over her, that Bigot could not be utterly 
base. He could not thus forsake one who had lost all — 
name, fame, home, and kindred for his sake ! She clung 
to the few pitying words spoken by him as a shipwrecked 
sailor to the plank which chance has thrown in his way. 
It might float her for a few hours, and she was grateful. 

Immersed in these reflections, Caroline sat gazing at the 
clouds, now transformed into royal robes of crimson and gold 
— the gorgeous train of the sun filled the western horizon. 
She raised her pale hands to her head, lifting the mass of 
dark hair from her temples. The fevered blood madly cours- 
ing, pulsed in her ear like the stroke of a bell. 

She remembered a sunset like this on the shores of 
the Bay of Minas, where the thrush and oriole twittered 
their even-song before seeking their nests, where the foliage 
of the trees was all ablaze with golden fire, and a shimmer- 
ing path of sunlight lay upon the still waters like a glorious 
bridge leading from themselves to the bright beyond. 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


152 


On that well-remembered night, her heart had yielded 
to Bigot’s pleadings. She had leaned her head upon his 
bosom, and received the kiss and gave the pledge that 
bound her to him for ever. 

The sun kept sinking — the forests on the mountain tops 
burst into a bonfire of glory. Shadows went creeping up 
the hill-sides, until the highest crest alone flamed out as a 
beacon of hope to her troubled soul. 

Suddenly like a voice from the spirit world, the faint 
chime of the bells of Charlebourg floated on the evening 
breeze. It was the Angelus, calling men to prayer, and 
rest from their daily labor. Sweetly the soft reverberation 
floated through the forests, up the hill-sides, by plain and 
river, entering the open lattices of Chateau and cottage 
summoning rich and poor alike to their duty of prayer and 
praise. It reminded men of. the redemption of the world 
by the divine miracle of the incarnation, announced by 
Gabriel the angel of God, to the ear of Mary blessed 
among women. 

The soft bells rang on. Men blessed them and ceased 
from their toils in field and forest. Mothers knelt by the cra- 
dle and uttered the sacred words with emotions such as only 
mothers feel. Children knelt by their mothers, and learned 
the story of God’» pity in appearing upon earth as a little 
child, to save mankind from their sins. The dark Huron 
setting his snares in the forest, and the fishers on the 
shady stream stood still. The voyageur sweeping his 
canoe over the broad river, suspended his oar as the sol- 
emn sound reached him, and he repeated the angel’s 
words and went on his way with renewed strength. 

The sweet bells came like a voice of pity and consola- 
tion to the ear of Caroline. She knelt down, and clasping 
her hands, repeated the prayer of millions, 

“ Ave Maria! gratia plena.” 

She continued kneeling, offering up prayer after prayer 
for God’s forgiveness, both for herself and for him who had 
brought her to this pass of sin and misery. ‘‘ Mea culpa ! 
Mea 7naxima culpa repeated she, bowing herself to the 
ground. I am the chief of sinners ; who shall deliver 
me from this body of sin and afflicticn ? ” 

The sweet bells kept ringing. They woke reminiscences 
of voices of by-gone days. She heard her father’s tones, 


ANGELIQUE DES ME LOISES. 


153 


not in anger as he would speak now, but kind and loving as 
in her days of innocence. She heard her mother, long 
dead — oh, how happily dead, for she could not die of sor- 
row now, over her dear child’s fall. She heard the voices 
of the fair companions of her youth, who would think 
shame of her now ; and amidst them all, the tones of the 
persuasive tongue that wooed her maiden lov,e. How 
changed it all seemed ; and yet, as the repietition of two or 
three notes of a bar of music brings to recollection the 
whole melody to which it belongs, the few kind words 
of Bigot spoken that morning swept all before them 
in a drift of hope. Like a star struggling in the mist, 
the faint voice of an angel was heard afar off in the 
darkness. 

The ringing of the Angelus went on. Her heart was ut- 
terly melted. Her eyes, long parched, as a spent fountain 
in the burning desert, were suddenly filled with tears. She 
felt no longer the agony of the eyes that cannot weep. 
The blessed tears flowed quietly as the waters of Shiloh, 
bringing relief to her poor soul, famishing for one true 
word of affection. Long after the sweet bells ceased 
their chime, Caroline kept on praying for him, and long 
after the shades of night had fallen over the Chateau of 
Beaumanoir. 


• CHAPTER XVI. 

ANGELIQUE DES MELOISES. 

and see me to-night, Le Gardeur.” Angelique 
^ .des Meloises drew the bridle sharply, as she halted 
her spirited horse in front of the officer of the guard at the 
St. Louis Gate. “ Come and see me to-night ; I shall be 
at home to no one but you. Will you come ? ” 

Had Le Gardeur de Repentigny been ever so laggard 
and indifferent a lover, the touch of that pretty hand, and the 
glance from the dark eye that shot fire down into his very 
heart would have decided him to obey this seductive invi- 
tation. 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


15 + 

He held her hand as he looked up, with a face radiant 
with joy. I will surely come, Angelique. But tell me — ’’ 

She interrupted him, laughingly: ‘‘No; I will tell you 
nothing till you come ! So good-by till then.” 

He would fain have prolonged the interview ; but she 
capriciously shook the reins, and with a silvery laugh, rode 
through the gate-way and into the city. In a few minutes 
she dismounted at her own home, and, giving her horse in 
charge of a groom, ran lightly up the broad steps into the 
house. 

The family mansion of the Des Meloises was a tall and 
rather pretentious edifice, overlooking the fashionable Rue 
St. Louis, where it still stands, old and melancholy, as 
if mourning over its departed splendors. Few eyes look 
up nowadays to its broad ia9ade. It was otherwise when 
the beautiful Angelique des Meloises sat of summer evenings 
on the balcony, surrounded by a bevy of Quebec’s fairest 
daughters, who loved to haunt her windows, where they 
could see and be seen to the best advantage, exchanging 
salutations, smiles and repartees with the gay young officers 
and gallants who rode or walked along the lively thorough- 
fare. 

The house was, by a little artifice on the part of Angelique, 
empty of visitors this evening. Even her brother, the 
Chevalier des Meloises, with whom she lived, a man of high 
life and extreme fashion, was to-night enjoying the more 
congenial society of the officers of the Regiment de Bearn. 
At this moment, amid the clash of glasses and the bubbling 
of wine, the excited and voluble Gascons were discussing 
in one breath, the war, the council, the court, the ladies, 
and whatever gay topic was tossed from end to end of the 
crowded mess-table. 

“ Mademoiselle’s hair has got loose and looks like a 
Huron’s,” said her maid Lizette, as her nimble fingers re- 
arranged the rich dark-golden locks of Angelique, which 
reached to. the floor as she sat upon her fauteuil. 

“No matter, Lizette ; do it up d la Pompadour^ and 
make haste. My brain is in as great confusion as my 
hair. I need repose for an hour. Remember, Lizette, I 
am at home to no one to-night except the Chevalier de 
Repentigny.” 

“ The Chevalier called this afternoon. Mademoiselle, 
and was sorry he did not find you at home,” replied Lizette. 


ANGELIQUE DES ME LOISES. 


155 


wlio saw the eyelashes of her mistress quiver and droop while 
a flush deepened for an instant the roseate hue of her 
cheek. 

“I was in the country — that accounts for it! There I 
My hair will do I ’’ said Ange'lique, giving a glance in the 
great Venetian mirror before her. Her freshly donned 
robe of blue silk edged with a foam of snowy laces and 
furbelows, set off her tall, lithe figure. Her arms, bare to 
the elbows, would have excited Juno’s jealousy, or Hom- 
er’s verse to greater efforts in praise of them. Her dainty 
feet, shapely, aspiring and full of character as her face, 
were carelessly thrust forward, and upon one of them lay 
a flossy spaniel, a privileged pet of his fair mistress. 

The Boudoir of Angelique was a nest of luxury and 
elegance. Its furnishings and adornings were of the newest 
Parisian style. A carpet woven in the pattern of a bed of 
flowers, covered the floor. Vases of Sevres and Porcelain 
filled with roses and jonquils, stood on marble tables. 
Grand Venetian mirrors reflected the fair form of their 
mistress, from every point of view — who contemplated her- 
self before and behind, with a feeling of perfect satisfac- 
tion and a sense of triumph over every rival. 

A harpsichord occupied one corner of the room, and 
an elaborate bookcase, well filled with splendidly bound 
volumes, another. 

Angelique had small taste for reading, yet had made some 
acquaintance with the literature of the day. Her natural 
quick parts, and good taste, enabled her to shine, even in 
literary conversation. Her bright eyes looked volumes. 
Her silvery laugh was wiser than the wisdom of a Pre- 
cieuse. Her witty repartees covered acres of deficiencies 
with so much grace and tact, that men were tempted, to 
praise her knowledge no less than her beauty. 

She had a keen eye for artistic effects. She loved 
painting, although her taste was sensuous and voluptuous. 
Character is shown in the choice of pictures as much as 
in that of books or of companions. 

There was a painting of Vanloo. A lot of full blooded 
horses in a field of clover. They had broken fence, and were 
luxuriating in the rich forbidden pasture. The triumph 
of Cleopatra over Antony, by Le Brun, was a great favor- 
ite with Angelique, because of a fancied, if not a real re- 
semblance between her own features and those of the famous 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


156 

Queen of Egypt. Portraits of favorite friends, one of 
them Le Gardeur de Repentigny, and a still more recent 
acquisition, that of the Intendant Bigot, adorned the walls, 
and among them, was one distinguished for its contrast to 
all the rest. The likeness in the garb of an Ursuline of 
her beautiful Aunt Marie des Meloises, who in a fit of 
caprice some years before, had suddenly forsaken the 
world of fashion, and retired to the convent. Her sweet 
soprano voice as it led the choir in the old Chapel, was 
the talk and the admiration of the city. Men stood in 
the street to listen to the angelic voice of the unseen nun, 
whose hidden beauty was said to be reflected in the match- 
less charms of Angelique, but her singing no one in 
New France could equal. 

The proud beauty threw back her thick golden tresses as 
she scanned her fair face and magnificent figure in the tall 
Venetian mirror. She drank the intoxicating cup of self- 
flattery to the bottom, as she compared herself, feature by 
feature with every beautiful woman she knew in New 
France. The longer she looked the more she felt the 
superiority of her own charms over them all. Even the 
portrait of her aunt, so like her in feature, so different in 
expression, was glanced at with something like triumph 
spiced with contempt. 

‘‘ She was handsome as I,’’ cried Angelique. “ She 
was fit to be a queen, and made herself a nun! and all for 
the sake of a man I I am fit to be a queen too, and the 
man who raises me Highest to a queen’s estate, gets my 
hand ! My heart ? ” she paused a few moments. “ Pshaw 1 ” 
A slight quiver passed over her lips. ‘‘ My heart must do 
penance for the fault of my hand I ” 

Petrified by vanity and saturated with ambition, Ange- 
lique retained under the hard crust of selfishness, a soli- 
tary spark of womanly feeling. The handsome face and 
figure of Le Gardeur de Repentigny was her beau ideal of 
manly perfection. His admiration flattered her pride. 
His love, for she knew infallibly with a woman’s instinct, 
that he loved her, touched her into a tenderness such as 
she felt for no man beside. It was the nearest approach 
to love her nature was capable of, and she used to listen 
to him with more than complacency, while she let her hand 
linger in his warm clasp, while the electric fire passed from 
one to another, and she looked into his eyes, and spoke to 


ANGELIQUE DES MELOISES. 


him ill those sweet undertones that win men’s hearts to 
woman’s purposes. 

She believed she loved Le Gardeur, but there was no 
depth in the soil where a devoted passion could take firm 
root. Still she was a woman keenly alive to admiration. 
Jealous and exacting of her suitors, never willingly letting 
one loose from her bonds, and with warm passions and a 
cold heart, was eager for the semblance of love, although 
never feeling its divine reality. 

The idea of a union with Le Gardeur some day when 
she should tire of the whirl of fashion, had been a pleasant 
fancy of Angelique. She had no fear of losing her power 
over him. She held him by the very heart strings, and 
she knew it. She might procrastinate, play fast and loose, 
drive him to the very verge of madness by her coquetries, 
but she knew she could draw him back, like a bird held by 
a silken string. She could excite, if she could not feel 
the fire of a passionate love. In her heart she regarded 
men as beings created for her service, amusement and 
sport, to worship her beauty, and adorn it with gifts. She 
took everything as her due, giving nothing in return. Her 
love was an empty shell that never held a kernel of real 
womanly care for any man. 

Amid the sunshine of her fancied love for Le Gardeur, 
had come a day of eclipse for him, of fresh glory for her. 
The arrival of the new Intendant Bigot, changed the cur- 
rent of Angelique’s ambition. His high rank, his fabulous 
wealth, his connections with the court, and his unmarried 
state, fanned into a flame the secret aspirations of the 
proud, ambitious girl. His wit and gallantry captivated 
her fancy, and her vanity was full fed by being singled out 
as the special object of the Intendant’s admiration. 

She already indulged in dreams which regarded the In- 
tendant himself as but a stepping stone to further great- 
ness. Her vivid fancy, conjured up scenes of royal 
splendor, where, introduced by the courtly Bigot, princes 
and nobles would follow in her train, and the smiles of 
majesty itself would distinguish her in the royal halls of 
Versailles. 

Angelique felt she had power to accomplish all this, 
could she but open the way. The name of Bigot, she re- 
garded as the open sesame to all greatness. “ If women 
rule France by a right more divine than that of kings, no 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


^58 

woman has abetter right than I ! ” said she, gazing into the 
mirror before her. ‘‘The kingdom should be mine, and 
death to all other pretenders ! And what is needed after 
all?” thought she, as she brushed her golden hair ’from 
her temples with a hand firm as it was beautiful. “ It is but 
to pull down the heart of a man ! I have done that, many 
a time for my pleasure. I will now do it for my profit, and 
for supremacy over my jealous and envious sex! ” 

Angelique was not one to quail when she entered the 
battle in pursuit of any object of ambition or fancy. “ I 
never saw the man yet,” said she, “ whom I could not 
bring to my feet if I willed it f The Chevalier Bigot would 
be no exception. That is, he would be no exception^ 
the voice of Angelique fell into a low hard monotone 
as she finished the sentence — “ were he free from the 
influence of that mysterious woman at Beaumanoir, who 
they s-ay claims the title of wife by a token which even 
Bigot may not disregard 1 Her pleading eyes may draw 
his compassion where they ought to excite his scorn. But 
men are fools to woman’s faults and are often held by the 
very thing women never forgive. While she crouches there 
like ia lioness in my path, the chances are I shall never be 
Chatelaine of Beaumanoir — never until she is gone I ” 

Angelique fell into a deep fit of musing and murmured 
to herself, “ I shall never reach Bigot unless she be re- 
moved. But how to remove her ?” 

Aye, that was the riddle of the Sphinx! Angelique’s 
life, as she had projected it, depended upon the answer to 
that question. 

She trembled with a new feeling ; a shiver ran through 
her veins, as if the cold breath of a spirit of evil had pass- 
ed over her. A miner boring down into the earth strikes 
a hidden stone that brings him to a dead stand. So An- 
gelique struck a hard, dark thought far down in the depths 
of her secret soul. She drew it to the light and gazed on 
it shocked and frightened. 

“ I did not mean that !” cried the startled girl, crossing 
herself. ^^Mere de Dieii ! I did not conceive a w'icked 
thought like that ! I will not ! I cannot cpntem23late that ! ” 
She shut her e 3 ^es, pressing both hands over them, as if 
resolved not to look at the evil thought that like a spirit of 
darkness came when evoked, and would not depart when 
bidden. 


ANGELIQ UE DES MEL OISES. 


^59 


The first suggestion of sin comes creeping in an houi 
of moral darkness, like a feeble mendicant who craves ad- 
mission to a corner of our fireside. We let him in, warm 
and nourish him. We talk and trifle with him from our 
high seat, thinking no harm or danger. But woe to us if 
we let the secret assassin lodge under our roof 1 He will 
rise up stealthily at midnight, and strangle conscience in 
her bed, murder the sleeping watchman of our uprightness, 
lulled to rest by the opiate of strong desire. 

Angelique sat as in an enchanted circle round which 
fluttered shapes unknown to her before, and the face of 
Caroline de St. Castin went and came, now approaching, 
now receding like the phantom of a phantasmagoria. She 
fancied she heard a rustle as of wings, a sharp cry out 
of the darkness and all was still ! She sprang up trem- 
bling in every limb, and supporting herself against a table, 
seized a gilded carafe and poured out a full goblet of wine, 
which she drank. It revived her fainting spirit ; she drank 
another, and stood up herself again, laughing at her own 
weakness. 

She ran to the window and looked out into the night. 
The bright stars shone overhead, the lights in the street 
reassured her. The people passing by and the sound of 
voices brought back her familiar mood. She thought no 
more of the temptation from which she had not prayed to 
be delivered, just as the daring skater forgets the depths 
that underlie the thin ice over which he skims, careless as 
a bird in the sunshine. 

An hour more was struck by the loud clock of the Re- 
collets. The drums and bugles of the garrison sounded 
the signal for the closing of the gates of the city and the 
setting of the watch for thd® night. Presently the heavy 
tramp of the patrol was heard in the street. Sober bour- 
geois walked briskly home, while belated soldiers ran has- 
tily to get into their quarters ere the drums ceased beating 
the tattoo. 

The sharp gallop of a horse clattered on the stony pave- 
ment, and stopped suddenly at the door. A light std^ and 
the clink of a scabbard rang on the steps. A familiar 
rap followed. Angelique, with the infallible intuition of a 
woman who recognizes the knock and footstep of her lover 
from ten thousand others, sprang up and met Le Gardeur 
de Repentigny as he entered the Boudoir. She received 


lOO 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


him with warmth, even fondness, for she was proud of Le 
Gardeur and loved him in her secret heart beyond all the 
rest of her admirers. 

“ Welcome, Le Gardeur ! ” exclaimed she, giving both 
hands in his — I knew you would come, you are welcome 
as the returned prodigal ! ’’ 

‘‘ Dear Angelique ! ” repeated he, after kissing her 
hands with fervor. “The prodigal was sure to return. 
He could not live longer on the dry husks of mere rec 
ollections.” 

“ So he rose and came to the house that is full and 
overflowing with welcome for him ! It is good of you to 
come, Le Gardeur ! why have you stayed so long away ? ’’ 
Angelique in the joy of his presence, forgot, for the mo- 
ment, her meditated infidelity. 

A swift stroke of her hand swept aside her flowing 
skirts to clear a place for him upon the sofa, where he sat 
down beside her. 

“This is kind of you, Angelique,’’ said he,“ I did not 
expect so much condescension after my petulance at the 
Governor’s ball ; I was wicked that night, forgive me.” 

“ The fault was more mine, I doubt, Le Gardeur.” 
Angelique recollected how she had tormented him on that 
occasion, by capricious slights, while bounteous of her 
smiles to others. “ I was angry with you, because of your 
too great devotion to Cecile Tourangeau.” 

This was not true, but Angelique had no scruple to lie 
to a lover. She knew well that it was only from his vexa- 
tion at her conduct, that Le Gardeur had pretended to re- 
new some long intermitted coquetries with the fair Cecile. 
“ But why were you wicked at all that night ? ” inquired 
she, with a look of sudden interest, as she caught a red 
cast in his eye, that spoke of much dissipation. “ You 
have been ill, Le Gardeur ! ” But she knew he had been 
drinking deep and long, to drown vexation, perhaps, over 
her conduct. 

“ I have not been ill,” replied he ; “ shall I tell you the 
truth, Angelique ? ” 

“ Always, and all of it ! The whole truth and nothing 
but the truth ! ” Her hand rested fondly on his ; no word 
of equivocation was possible under that mode of putting 
her lover to the question: “ Tell me why you were wicked 
that night ! ” 


ANGELIQUE DES MELOISES. i6i 

‘‘ Because I loved you to madness, Angelique ; and I 
saw myself thrust from the first place in your heart, and a 
new idol set up in my stead. That is the truth ! ” 

“ That is not the truth ! ’’ exclaimed she, vehemently ; 
“ and never will be the truth, if I know myself and you. 
But you don’t know women, Le Gardeur,” added she, with 
a smile ; you don’t know me, the one woman you ought 
to know, better than that ! — ” 

It is easy to recover affection that is not lost. Ange- 
lique knew her power, and was not indisposed to excess in 
the exercise of it. ‘‘ Will you do something for me, Le 
Gardeur ? ” asked she, tapping his fingers coquettishly with 
her fan. 

‘‘ Will I not ? Is there anything, in earth, heaven or 
hell, Angelique, I would not do for you, if I only could 
win what I covet more than life ? ” 

“ What is that ? ” Angelique knew full well, what he 
coveted more than life ; her own heart began to beat re- 
sponsively to. the passion she had kindled in his. She 
nestled up closer to his side. “ What is that, Le Gar- 
deur 1 ” 

‘‘Your love, Angelique ! I have no other hope in life 
if I miss that ! Give me your love and I will serve you 
with such loyalty as never man served woman with, since 
Adam and Eve were created.” 

It was a rash saying, but Le Gardeur believed it, and 
Angelique too. Still she kept her aim before her. “ If I 
give you my love,” said she, pressing her hand through his 
thick locks, sending from her fingers a thousand electric 
fires, “ will you really be my knight, my Chevalier preux^ 
to wear my colors and fight my battles wdth all the world t ’ 
“ I will by all that is sacred in man or woman ! Your 
will shall be my law, Angelique j your pleasure my con- 
science ; you shall be to me all reason and motive for my 
acts, if you will but love me ! ” 

“ I do love you, Le Gardeur ! ” replied she, impetu- 
ously. She felt the vital soul of this man breathing on 
her cheek. She knew he spoke true ; but she was incapa- 
ble of measuring the height and immensity of such a pas- 
sion. She accepted his love ; but she could no more con- 
tain the fulness of his overflowing affection, than the 
pitcher that is held to the Fountain can contain the stream 
that gushes forth perpetually. 

II 


i 62 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


Ang^lique was almost carried away from her purpose, 
however. Had her heart asserted its rightful supremacy ; 
that is, had nature -fashioned it larger and warmer, she 
had there and then thrown herself into his arms and 
blessed him by the consent he sought. She felt assured 
that here was the one man God had made for her, and she 
was cruelly sacrificing him to a false idol of ambition and 
vanity. The word he pleaded for hovered on her tongue, 
ready like a bird to leap down into his bosom ; but she 
resolutely beat it back into its iron cage. 

The struggle was the old one ; old as the race of man. 
In the losing battle between the false and true, love rarely 
comes out of that conflict unshorn of life or limb. Un- 
true to him, she was true to her selfish self. The thought 
of the Intendant and the glories of life opening to her, 
closed her heart, not to the pleadings of Le Gardeur, them 
she loved ; but to the granting of his prayer. 

The die was cast, but she still clasped hard his hand 
m hers, as if she could not let him go. “ And will you do 
all you say, Le Gardeur, make my will your law ; my 
pleasure your conscience, and let me be to you all reason 
and motive } Such devotion terrifies me, Le Gardeur ? ’’ 

“ Try me ! Ask of me the hardest thing ; nay the wick- 
edest, that imagination can conceive or hands do ; and I 
would perform it for your sake.” Le Gardeur was getting 
beside himself. The magic power of those dark flashing 
eyes of hers was melting all the fine gold of his nature to 
folly. 

‘‘ Fie ! ” replied she, I do not ask you to drink the 
sea.. A small thing would content me. My love is not so 
exacting as that, Le Gardeur.” 

“ Does your brother need my aid,” asked he, ‘‘ If he 
does, he shall have it to half my fortune, for your sake.! ” 
Le Gardeur was well aware that the prodigal brother of 
Angelique was in a strait for money as was usual with 
him. He had lately importuned Le Gardeur and obtained 
a large sum from him. 

She looked up with well affected indignation. “ How 
can you think such a thing, Le Gardeur ? my brother was 
not in my thought. It was the Intendant I wished to ask 
you about, you know him better than I.” 

This was not true. Angelique had studied the Intend- 
ant in mind, person and estate, weighing him scruple by 


ANGELIQUE DES MELOISES. 


163 

scruple to the last attainable atom of information. Not 
that she had sounded the depths of Bigot’s soul, there 
were regions of darkness in his character, which no eye 
but God’s ever penetrated. Angelique felt, that with all 
her acuteness, she did not comprehend the Intendant. 

“ You ask what I think of the Intendant.^ ” asked he, 
surprised somewhat at the question. 

Yes, — an odd question is it not, Le Gardeur.?” and 
she smiled away any surprise he experienced. 

“ Truly, I think him the most jovial gentleman that evei 
was in New France,” was the reply, “frank and open- 
handedTo his friends, laughing and dangerous to hris foes. 
His wit is like his wine, Angelique ; one never tires of 
either ; and no lavishness exhausts it. In a word I like 
the Intendant, I like his wit, his wine, his triends ; some 
of them that is 1 but above all, I like you, Angelique and 
will be more his friend than ever for your sake ; since I 
have* learned his generosity towards the Chevalier de 
Meloises.” 

The Intendant had recently bestowed a number of 
valuable shares in the Grand Company upon the brother 
of Angelique, making the fortune of that extravagant 
young nobleman. 

“ I am glad you will be his friend, if only for my sake,’ 
added she coquettishly. “ But some great friends of yours 
like him not. Your sweet sister Amelie shrank like a sen- 
sitive plant at the mention of his name, and the Lady de 
Tilly put on her gravest look to-day when I spoke of the 
Chevalier Bigot. 

Le Gardeur gave Angelique an equivocal look at men- 
tion of his sister. “ My sister Amelie is an angel in the 
flesh,” said he. “ A man need be little less than divine to 
meet her full approval ; and my good aunt has heard some- 
thing of the genial life of the Intendant. One may excuse 
a reproving shake of her noble head.” 

“ Colonel Philibert, too ! he shares in the sentiments 
of your aunt and sister, to say nothing of the standing hos- 
tility of his father, the bourgeois,” continued Angelique, 
provoked at Le Gardeur’s apparent want of adhesion. 

“ Pierre Philibert ! He may not* like the Intendant. 
He has reason for not doing so ; but I stake my life upon 
his honor. He will never be unjust towards the Intendant 
or any man.” Le Gardeur could not be drawn into a cen- 
sure of his friend. 


THE CHIEJV D' OR. 


164 

Angelique sheathed adroitly the stiletto of inuenJo 
she had drawn : “You say right/’ said she, craftily, “ Pierre 
Philibert is a gentleman worthy of your regard. I confess 
I have seen no handsomer man in New France. I have 
been dreaming of one like him all my life ! What a pity I 
saw you first, Le Gardeur!” added she, pulling him by the 
hair. 

“ I doubt you would throw me to the fishes were Pierre 
my rival, Angelique,” replied he, merrily ; ^‘but I am in no 
danger ; Pierre’ s affections are, I fancy, forestalled in a 
quarter where I need not be jealous of his success.” 

“I shall at any rate not be jealous of your sister, Le 
Gardeur,” said Angelique, raising her face to his^ suffused 
with a blush ; “ if I do not give you the love you ask for 
it is because you have it already ; but ask no more at pres- 
ent from me — this, at least, is yours,” said she, kissing him 
twice, without prudery or hesitation. 

That kiss from those adored lips sealed his fate. It 
was the first ; better it had been the last. Better he had 
never been born than have drank the poison of her lips. 

‘‘ Now answer me my questions, Le Gardeur,” added 
she, after a pause of soft blandishments. 

Le Gardeur felt her fingers playing with his hair, as, 
like Delilah, she cut off the seven locks of his strength. 

There is a lady at Beaumanoir, tell me who and what 
she is, Le Gardeur,” said she. 

He would not have hesitated to betray the gate of heaven 
at her prayer ; but, as it happened, Le Gardeur could not 
give her the special information she wanted as to the particu- 
lar relation in which that lady stood to the Intendant. Angel- 
ique, with wonderful cpolness, talked away and laughed at 
the idea of the Intendant’s gallantry. But she could get 
no confirmation of her suspicions* from Le Gardeur. Her 
inquiry was for the present a failure, but she made Le 
Gardeur promise to learn what he could, and tell her the 
result of his inquiries. 

They sat long, conversing together, until the bell of the 
Recollets sounded the hour of midnight. Angelique looked 
in the face of Le Gardeur with a meaning smile, as she 
counted each stroke with her dainty finger on his cheek. 
When finished, she sprang up, and looked out of the lattice 
at the summer night. 

The stars were twinkling like living things. Charles* 


ANGELIQUE DES ME LOISES. 


1^5 

Wain lay inverted in the northern horizon ; Bootes had 
driven his sparkling herd down the slope of the western 
sky. A few thick tresses of her golden hair hung negli- 
gently over her bosom and shoulders. She placed her 
arm in Le Gardeur’s, hanging heavily upon him, as she di- 
rected his eyes to the starry heavens. The selfish schemes 
she carried in her bosom dropped for a moment to the 
ground. Her feet seemed to trample them into the dust, 
while she half resolved to be to this man all that he be- 
lieved her to be, a true and devoted woman. 

‘‘ Read my destiny,^^ Le Gardeur, said she, earnestly. 
‘‘You area Seminarist. They say the wise fathers of the 
seminary study deeply the science of the stars, and the 
students all become adepts in it.’’ 

“ Would that my starry heaven were more propitious, 
Angelique,” replied he, gaily kissing her eyes. “ I care 
not for other skies than these! My fate and fortune are 
here.” 

Her bosom heaved with mingled passions. The word 
of hope and the word of denial struggled on her lips for 
mastery. Her blood throbbed quicker than the beat of the 
golden pendule on the marble' table ; but, like a bird, the 
good impulse again escaped her grasp. 

“Look, Le Gardeur,” said she. Her delicate finger 
pointed at Perseus, who was ascending the eastern heav- 
ens, “ there is my star. Mere Malheur — you know her — 
she once said to me that that was my natal star which 
would rule my life.” 

Like all whose passions pilot them, Angelique believed 
in destiny. 

Le Gardeur had sipped a few drops of the cup of astrol- 
ogy from the venerable Professor Vallier. Angelique’s 
finger pointed to the star Algol — that strange, mutable 
star that changes from bright to dark with the hours, and 
which some believe changes men’s hearts to stone. 

“ Mere Malheur lied 1” exclaimed he, placing his arm 
round her, as if to protect her from the baleful influence. 
“ That cursed star never presided over your birth, Angel- 
ique ! That is the demon star Algol.” 

Angelique shuddered, and pressed still closer to him, as 
if in fear. 

“ Mere Malheur would not tell me the meaning of that 
star, but bade me, if a saint, to watch and wait ; if a sin- 


i66 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


ner, to watch and pray. What means Algol, Le Gardeur ? 
she half faltered. 

“Nothing for you, love. A fig for all the stars in the 
sky! Your bright eyes outshine them all in radiance, and 
overpower them in influence. All the music of the spheres 
is to me discord compared with the voice of Angelique 
des Meloises, whom alone I love 1 ’’ 

As he spoke, a strain of heavenly harmony arose from 
the chapel of the Convent of the Ursulines, where they 
were celebrating midnight service for the safety of New 
France. Amid the sweet voices that floated up on the 
notes of the pealing organ was clearly distinguished that of 
Mere St. Borgia, the aunt of Angelique, who led the 
choir of nuns. In trills and cadences of divine melody 
the voice of Mere St. Borgia rose higher and higher, like a 
spirit mounting the skies. The words were indistinct, but 
Angelique knew them by heart. She had visited her aunt 
in the convent, and had learned the new hymn composed 
by her for the solemn occasion. 

As they listened with quiet awe to the supplicating 
strain, Angelique repeated to Le Gardeur the words of the 
hymn as it was sung by the choir of nuns : 

Soutenez, grande Reine, 

Notre -pauvre pays ! 

II est votre domaine 
Faites fleurir nos lis I 
L’Anglais sur nos frontieres. 

Porte ses etendards, 

Exaucez nos prieres 
Protegez nos remparts ! ’* . 

The hymn ceased. Both stood mute until the watch- 
man cried the hour in the silent street. 

“ God bless their holy prayers, and good night and God 
bless you, Angelique ! ’’ said Le Gardeur, kissing her. He 
departed suddenly, leaving a gift in the hand of Lizette, 
who curtseyed low to him, with a smile of pleasure, as he 
passed out, while Angelique leaned out of the window 
listening to his horse’s hoofs until the last tap of them died 
away on the stony pavement. 

She threw herself upon her couch and wept silently. 
The soft music had touched her feelings. Le Gardeur’s 
love was like a load of gold, crushing her with its weight. 
She could neither carry it onward nor throw it off. She 


ANGELIQUE DES ME LOISES. 167 

fell at length into a slumber filled with troubled dreams. 
She was in a sandy wilderness carrying a pitcher of clear 
cold water, and though dying of thirst she would not drink, 
but perversely poured it upon the ground. She was fall- 
ing down into unfathomable abysses and pushed aside the 
only hand stretched out to save her. She was drowning 
in deep water and she saw Le Gardeur buffeting the 
waves to rescue her ; but she wrenched herself out of his 
grasp. She would not be saved and was lost ! Her couch 
was surrounded with indefinite shapes of embryo evil. 

She fell asleep at last. When she awoke the sun was 
pouring in her windows. A fresh breeze shook the trees. 
The birds sang gaily in the garden. The street was alive 
and stirring with people. 

It was broad day. Angelique des Meloises was herself 
again. Her day dream of ambition resumed its power. 
Her night dream of love was over. Her fears vanished, 
her hopes were all alive and she began to prepare for a 
possible morning call from the Chevalier Bigot. 


CHAPTER XVH. 

SPLENDIDE MENDAX. 

Amid the ruins of the once magnificent palace of the 
Intendant, massive fragments of which still remain to attest 
its former greatness, there may still be traced the outline 
of the room where Bigot walked restlessly up and down 
the morning after the council of war. The disturbing 
letters he had received from France on both public and 
private affairs irritated him while it set his fertile brain at 
work to devise means at once to satisfy the Marquise de 
Pompadour and to have his own way still. 

The walls of his cabinet now bare, shattered, and roof- 
less ! with the blasts of six score winters,, were hung with, 
portraits of ladies and statesmen of tfie day ; conspicuous 
among which was a fine picture from the pencil of Vanloo 
of the handsome, voluptuous Marquise de Pompadour. 

With a world of faults, that celebrated Dame who ruled 


i68 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


France, in the name of Louis XV., made some amends by 
her persistent good nature and her love for art. The 
painter, the architect, the sculptor, and above all the men 
of literature in France were objects of her sincere admira- 
tion, and her patronage of them was generous to profusion. 
The picture of her in the cabinet of the Intendant had 
been a work of gratitude by the great artist who painted 
it, and was presented by her to Bigot as a mark of her 
friendship and demi royal favor. The cabinet itself was 
furnished in a style of regal magnificence, which the 
Intendant carried into all details of his living. 

The Chevalier de Pean, the secretary and confidential 
friend of the Intendant was writing at a table. He looked 
up now and then with a curious glance as the figure of his 
chief moved to and fro with quick turns across the room. 
But neither of them spoke. 

Bigot would have been quite content with enriching 
himself and his friends, and turning out of doors the crowd 
of courtly sycophants who clamored for the plunder of the 
colony. He had sense to see that the course of policy in 
which he was embarked might eventually ruin New France. 
Nay, having its origin in the court might undermine the 
whole fabric of the monarchy. He consoled himself, how- 
ever, with the reflection that it could not be helped. He 
formed but one link in the great chain of corruption, and 
one link could not stand alone. It could only move by 
following those which went before, and dragging after it 
those that came behind. Without debating a useless point of 
morals. Bigot quietly resigned himself to the service of his 
masters or rather mistresses, after he had first served him- 
self. 

If the enormous plunder made out of the administra- 
tion of the war by the great monopoly he had estab- 
lished were suddenly to cease. Bigot felt that his genius 
would be put to a severe test. But he had no misgivings, 
because he had no scruples. He was not the man to go 
under in any storm. He would light upon his feet, as he 
expressed it, if the world turned upside down. 

Bigot suddenly stopped in his walk. His mind had 
been dwelling upon the gr^at affairs of his Intendancy and 
the mad policy of the court of Versailles. A new thought 
struck him. He turned and looked fixedly at his sec- 
retary. 


SPLENDIDE MEND AX, 


169 

‘‘ De Pean ! ” said he. We have not a sure hold of the 
Chevalier de Repentigny ! That young fellow plays fast 
and loose with us. One who dines with me at the pal- 
ace and sups with the Philiberts at the Chien d’Or, can- 
not be a safe partner in the Grand Company! — ’’ 

“ I have small confidence in him either,” replied De 
Pean. Le Gardeur has too many loose ends of respec- 
tability hanging about him to make him a sure hold for our 
game.” 

“Just so I Cadet, Varin and the rest of you have only 
half haltered the young colt. His training so far is no 
credit to you ! The way that cool bully Colonel Philibert 
walked off with him out of Beaumanoir, was a sublime 
specimen of impudence. Ha ! Ha ! The recollection of it 
has salted my meat ever since 1 It was admirably per- 
formed 1 although, egad, I should have liked to run my 
sword through Philibert’s ribs 1 and not one of you all was 
man enough to do it for me 1 ” 

“ But your excellency gave no hint, you seemed full of 
politeness towards Philibert,” replied De Pean, with a tone 
that implied he would have done it, had Bigot given the 
hint. 

“ Zounds I as if I do not know it ! But it was provok- 
ing to be flouted, so politely too, by that whelp of the 
Golden Dog I The influence of that Philibert is immense 
over young De Repentigny. They say he once pulled him 
out of the water, and is moreover a suitor of the sister, a 
charming girl, De Pean ! with no end of money, lands, 
and family power. She ought to be secured as well as 
her brother in the interests of the Grand Company. A 
‘good marriage with one of our party, would secure her, 
and none of you dare propose, by God ! ” 

“ It is useless to think of proposing to her,” replied De 
Pean. “ I know the proud minx. She is one of the 
angelic ones, who regard marriage as a thing of heaven’s 
arrangement. She believes God never makes but one 
man for one woman, and it is her duty to marry him or 
nobody. It is whispered among the kno\ying girls who 
went to school with her at the Convent, (and the Convent 
girls do know everything, and something more I ) that she 
always cherished a secret affection for this Philibert, and 
that she will marry him some day.” 

Marry Satan ! Such a girl as that to many a cursed 


170 


THE CHIEN U OR. 


Philibert ! ’’ Bigot was really irritated at the information. 
“ I think ” said he, “ women are ever ready to sail in the 
ships of Tarshish, so long as the cargo is gold, silver, 
ivory^, apes and peacocks ! It speaks ill for the boasted 
gallantry of the Grand Company if not one of them can win 
this girl. If we could gain her over, we should have no 
difficulty with- the brother, and the point is to secure him.’’ 

“There is but one way I can see, your excellency.” 
De Pean did not appear to make his suggestion very cheer- 
fully, but he was anxious to please the Intendant. 

“ How is that ? ” the Intendant asked sharply. He had 
not the deepest sense of De Pean’s wisdom. 

“ We must call in woman to fight woman in the in- 
terests of the Company,” replied the Secretary. 

“ A good scheme if one could be got to fight and win ! 
But do you know any woman who can lay her fingers on 
Le Gardeur de Repentigny, and pull him out from among 
the Homietes gens ? ” 

“ I do, your Excellency. I know the very one can 
do it,” replied De Pean confidently. 

“ You do ! Why do you hesitate then ? Have you any 
arriere pe^isee that keeps you from telling her name at 
once ? ” asked the Intendant impatiently. 

“ It is Mademoiselle des Meloises. She can do it, and 
no other woman in New France need try 1 ” replied De 
Pean. 

“ Why she is a clipper certainly ! Bright eyes like hers 
rule the world of fools, (and of wise men too) ” added Bigot 
in a parenthesis. “ However, all the world is caught by 
that bird-lime. I confess I never made a fool of myself but 
a woman was at the bottom of it. But for one who has 
tripped me up I have taken sweet revenge on a thousand. 
If Le Gardeur be entangled in Nerea’s hair, he is safe in 
our toils. Do you think Angelique is at home, De Pean ? ” 

The Intendant looked up at the clock. It was the usual 
hour for morning calls in Quebec. 

“ Doubtless she is at home at this hour, your Excel- 
lency,” replied De Pean. “ But she likes her bed as 
other pretty women do, and is practising for the petite levee 
like a Duchess. I don’t suppose she is up ! ” 

“ I don’t know that,” replied Bigot. “ A greater runa- 
gate in petticoats there is not in the whole city ! I never 
pass through the streets but I see her.” 


SPLENDID E men!) AX, 


171 

‘‘ Aye, that is because she intends to meet your Excel- 
lency ! ” Bigot looked sharply at De Pean. A new thought 
flashed in his eyes. 

“What ! think you she makes a point of it, De Pean ? 

“ I think she would not go out of the way of your Excel- 
lency.’’ De Pean shuffled among his papers.. But his slight 
agitation was noticed by the Intendant. 

“ Hum ! is that your thought, De Pean ? Looks she in 
this quarter ? ” Bigot meditated with his hand on his chin 
for a moment or two. “You think she is doubtless at home 
this morning ? ” added he. 

It was late when De Repentigny left her last night, and 
she would have long and pleasant dreams after that visit I 
warrant,” replied the Secretary. 

“ How do you know By St Picot ! You watch her 
closely, De Pean ! ” 

“ I do, your Excellency. I have reason,” was the reply. 

De Pean did not say what his reason for watching 
Angelique was ; neither did Bigot ask. The Intendant 
cared not to pry into the personal matters of his friends. 
He had himself too much to conceal not to respect the 
secrets of his associates. 

“Well, De Pean ! I will v/ait on Mademoiselle des 
Meloises this morning. I will act on your suggestion, and 
trust I shall not find her unreasonable.” 

“ I hope your Excellency will not find her unrea- 
sonable, but I know you will, for if ever the devil of con- 
tradiction was in a woman he is in Angelique des 
Meloises !” replied De Pean savagely, as if he spoke from 
some experience of his own. 

“ Well I will try to cast out that devil by the power of a 
still stronger one. Ring for my horse, De Pean ! ” 

The Secretary obeyed and ordered the horse. “ Mind, 
De Pean ! ” continued the Intendant. “ The Board of the 
Grand Company meet at three for business ! actual busi- 
ness ! not a drop of wine upon the table, and all sober ! 
not even Cadet shall come in if he shows one streak of the 
grape on his broad face. There is a storm of peace coming 
over us, and it is necessary to shorten sail, take soundings 
and see where we are, or we may strike on a rock.” 

The Intendant left the palace attended by a couple of 
equerries. He rode through the palace gate and into the 
city. Habitans and citizens bowed to him, out of habitual 


172 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


respect for their superiors. Bigot returned their saluta- 
tions with official brevity, but his dark face broke into sun- 
shine as he passed ladies and citizens whom he knew as 
partners of the Grand Company, or partizans of his own 
faction. 

As he rode rapidly through the streets many an ill wish 
followed him, until he dismounted before the mansion of 
the Des Meloises. 

‘‘ As I live it is the royal Intendant himself,’^ screamed 
Lizette, as she ran out of breath to inform her mistress, who 
was sitting alone in the summer-house in the garden, be- 
hind the mansion, a pretty spot tastefully laid out with 
flower beds and statuary. A thick hedge of privet cut into 
fantastic shapes by some disciple of the school of Le 
Nostre, screened it from the slopes that ran up towards the 
green glacis of Cape Diamond. 

Angelique looked beautiful as Hebe the golden haired, 
as she sat in the arbor this morning. Her light morning 
dress of softest texture fell in graceful folds about her 
exquisite form. She held a book of Hours in her hand, but 
she had not once opened it since she sat down. Her dark 
eyes looked not soft, nor kindly, but bright, defiant, wanton 
and even wicked in their expression — like the eyes of an 
Arab steed, whipped, spurred, and brought to a desperate 
leap. It may clear the wall before it, or may dash itself 
dead against the stones. Such w^as the temper of Angelique 
this morning. 

Hard thoughts and many respecting the Lady of Beau- 
manoir — fond, almost savage regret at her meditated rejec- 
tion of De Repentigny — glittering images of the royal In- 
tendant, and of the splendors of Versailles, passed in rapid 
succession through her brain, forming a phantasmagoria in 
which she colored everything according to her own fancy. 
The words of her maid roused her in an instant. 

Admit the Intendant and show him into the garden, 
Lizette ! Now ! ” said she, I shall end my doubts about that 
lady ! I will test the Intendant’s sincerity ! Cold, calculating 
woman slayer that he is ! It shames me to contrast his half 
heartedness with the perfect adoration of my handsome Le 
Gardeur de Repentigny ! 

The Intendant entered the garden. Angelique with 
that complete self-control which distinguishes a woman of 
half a heart, or no heart at all, changed her whole demeanor 


SPLENDIDE MENDAX. 


173 


in a moment from gravity to gayety. Her eyes flashed out 
pleasure, and her dimples went and came, as she welcomed 
the Intendant to her arbor. 

“ A friend is never so welcome as when he comes of his 
own accord ! ” said she, presenting her hand to the Inten- 
dant, who took it with empressement. She made room for 
him on the seat beside her, dashing her skirts aside some- 
what ostentatiously. 

Bigot looked at her admiringly. He thought he had 
never seen in painting, statuary, or living form, a more 
beautiful and fascinating woman. 

Angelique accepted his admiration as her due, feeling 
no thanks, but looking many. 

The Chevalier Bigot does not lose his politeness, how- 
ever long he absents himself ! ” said she, with a glance like 
a Parthian arrow well aimed to strike home. 

“I have been hunting at Beaumanoir,” replied he, ex- 
tenuatingiy, “ That must explain, not excuse, my apparent 
neglect,’’ Bigot, felt that he had really been a loser by his 
absence. 

“ Hunting ! indeed ! ” Angelique affected a touch of 
surprise, as if she had not known every tittle of gossip about 
the gay party and all their doings at the Chateau. “ They 
say game is growing scarce near the city, Chevalier,” con- 
tinued she nonchalantly, and that a hunting party at 
Beaumanoir is but a pretty metonomy for a party of plea- 
sure, is that true ? ” 

“ Quite true. Mademoiselle,” replied he, laughing. The 
two things are perfectly compatible like a brace of lovers, 
all the better for being made one.” 

“ Very gallantly said ! ” retorted she with a ripple of 
dangerous laughter. I will carry the' comparison no 
farther. Still I wager, Chevalier, that the game is not 
worth the hunt.” 

‘‘The play is always worth the candle, in my fancy,” 
said he, with a glance of meaning ; “ but there is really 
good game yet in Beaumanoir, as you will . confess, 
Mademoiselle, if you will honor our party some day with 
your presence.” 

“ Come now, Chevalier,” replied she, fixing him mis- 
chievously with her eyes, “ tell me what game do you 
find in the forest of Beaumanoir } ” 

“ Oh ! rabbits, hares, and deer, with now and then a 
rough bear to try the mettle of our chasseurs.” 


174 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


“ What ! no foxes to cheat foolish crows ? no wolves to 
devour pretty Red Riding Hoods straying in the forest ? 
Come, Chevalier, there is better game than all that,’’ said 
she. 

Oh, yes ? ” — he half surmised she was rallying him now 
— ‘‘ plenty, but we don’t wind horns after them.” 

“ They say,” continued she, there is much fairer 
game than bird or beast in the forest of Beaumanoir, Che- 
valier.” She went on recklessly, ‘‘ Stray lambs are picked 
up by Intendants sometimes, and carried tenderly to the 
Chateau ! The Intendant comprehends a gentleman’s de- 
voirs to our sex, I am sure.” 

Bigot understood her now, and gave an angry start. 
Angelique did not shrink from the temper she had evoked. 

“ Heavens ! how you look, Chevalier ! ” said she, in a 
tone of half banter. ‘‘ One would think I had accused 
you of murder, instead of saving a fair lady’s life in the 
forest ; although woman-killing is no murder, I believe, by 
the laws of gallantry, as read by gentlemen — of fashion.” 

Bigot rose up with a hasty gesture of impatience and 
sat down again. “ After all,” he thought, “ what could 
this girl know about Caroline de St. Castin ? ” He ans- 
wered her with an appearance of frankness, deeming that 
to be the best policy. 

‘‘ Yes, Mademoiselle, I one day found a poor suffering 
woman in the forest. I took her to the Chateau, where she 
now is. Many ladies beside her have been to Beau- 
manoir. Many more will yet come and go, until I end 
my bachelordom, and place one there in perpetuity, as 
‘ mistress of my heart and home,’ as the song says.” 

Angelique could coquette in half meanings with any 
lady of honor at Court. Well, Chevalier, it will be your 
fault not to find one fit to place there. They walk every 
street of the city. But they say this lost and found lady is 
a stranger? ” 

‘‘To me she is — not to you, perhaps. Mademoiselle ! 

The .fine ear of Angelique detected the strain of hypo- 
crisy in his speech. It touched a sensitive nerve. She 
spoke boldly now. 

“ Some say she is your wife, Chevalier Bigot ! ” An- 
gdlique gave vent to a feeling long pent up. She who 
trifled with men’s hearts every day was indignant at the 
least symptom of repayment in kind. They say she is 


SPLENDIDE MENDAX. 


175 


your wife, or if not your wife, she ought to be, Chevalier ; 
and will be, perhaps, one of these fine days, when you 
have wearied of the distressed damsels of the city.’’ 

It had been better for Bigot, better for Angelique, that 
these two could have frankly understood each other. Bigot, 
in his sudden admiration of the beauty of this girl, forgot that 
his object in coming to see her had really been to promote 
a marriage, in the interests of the Grand Company, between 
her and Le Gardeur. Her witcheries had been too potent 
for the man of pleasure. He was himself caught in the net 
he spread for another. The adroit bird catching of An- 
gelique was too much for him in the beginning. Bigot’s 
tact and consummate heartlessness with women might be 
too much for her in the end. At the present moment he 
was fairly dazzled with her beauty, spirit, and seductiveness. 

“ I am a simple quail,” thought he, ‘‘ to be caught by 
her piping. Far Dieu! I am going to make a fool of my- 
self if I do not take care ! Such a woman as this I have 
not found between Paris and Naples. The man who gets 
her and knows how to use her might be Prime Minister of 
France. And to fancy it ! — I came here to pick this sweet 
chestnut out of the fire for Le Gardeur de Repentigny ! 
Francois Bigot ! as a man of gallantry and fashion I am 
ashamed of you ! ” 

These were his thoughts, but in words he replied : The 
lady of Beaumanoir is not my wife, perhaps never will be.” 
Angelique’s eager question fell on very unproductive ground. 

Angelique repeated the word superciliously. ‘‘ Per- 
haps ! ” ‘ Perhaps ’ in the mouth of a woman is consent 

half won ; in the mouth of a man I know it has a laxer 
meaning. Love has nothing to say to ^ perhaps.’ It is 
will or shall, and takes no ‘ perhaps,’ though a thousand 
times repeated ! ” 

And you intend to marry this treasure trove of the 
forest — perhaps?” continued Angelique, tapping the 
ground with a daintier foot than the Intendant had ever 
seen before. 

It depends much on you. Mademoiselle des Meloises,” 
said he. “ Had you been my treasure trove, there had been 
no ‘ perhaps ’ about it.” Bigot spoke bluntly, and to 
Angelique it sounded like sincerity. Her dreams were ac- 
complished. She trembled with the intensity of her grati- 
fication, and felt no repugnance at his familiar address. 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


176 


The Intendant held out his hand as he uttered the 
dulcet flattery, and she placed her hand in his, but it was 
cold and passionless. Her heart did not send the blood 
leaping into her finger ends as when they were held in the 
loving grasp of Le Gardeur. 

“ Angelique ! said he. It was the first time the Intend- 
ant had called her by her name. She started. It was the 
unlocking of his heart, she thought, and she looked at him 
with a smile which she had practised with infallible effect 
upon many a foolish admirer. 

‘‘ Angelique, I have seen no woman like you in New 
France or in Old. You are fit to adorn a Court, and I 
predict you will — if — if — ” 

“ If what, Chevalier ! Her eyes fairly blazed with 
vanity and pleasure. Cannot one adorn Courts, at least 
French Courts, without ifs ? ’’ 

‘‘ You can, if you choose to do so,” replied he, looking 
at her admiringly, for her whole countenance flashed intense 
pleasure at his remark. 

“ If I choose to do so ? I do choose to do so ! But 
who is to show me the way to the Court, Chevalier } It is 
a long and weary distance from New France.” 

‘‘ I will show you the way, if you will permit me, An- 
gelique. Versailles is the only fitting theatre for the dis- 
play of beauty and spirit like yours.” 

Angelique thoroughly believed this, and for a few 
moments was dazzled and overpowered by the thought 
of the golden doors of her ambition opened by the hand 
of the Intendant. A train of images, full winged and as 
gorgeous as birds of paradise, flashed across her vision. 
La Pompadour was getting old, men said, and the King 
was already casting his eyes round the circle of more 
youthful beauties in his Court for a successor. “ And what 
woman in the world,” thought she, “ could vie with 
Angelique des Meloises if she chose to enter the arena to 
supplant La Pompadour ? Nay, more ! If the prize of the 
King were her lot, she would outdo La Maintenon herself, 
and end by sitting on the throne.” 

Angelique was not, however, a milkmaid to say yes 
before she was asked. She knew her value, and had 
a natural distrust of the IntendanPs gallant speeches. 
Moreover, the shadow of the lady of Beaumanoir would 
not wholly disappear. “ Why do you say such flattering 


SPLENDIDE MEND AX. 


177 


things to me, Chevalier ? ” asked she. One takes them 
for earnest coming from the Royal Intendant. You should 
leave trifling to the idle young men of the city, who have 
no business to employ them but gallanting us women.” 

“Trifling! By St. Jeanne de Choisy, I was never 
more in earnest. Mademoiselle 1 ” exclaimed Bigot “ I 
offer you the entire devotion of my heart.” St. Jeanne de 
Choisy was the soubriquet in the petits apartemens for La 
Pompadour. Angelique knew it very well, although Bigot 
thought she did not 

“ Fair words are like flowers, Chevalier ; ” replied she, 

“ sweet to smell and pretty to look at. But love feeds on ripe 
fruit Will you prove your devotion to me if I put it to 
the test” 

“ Most willingly, Angelique 1 ” Bigot thought she con- 
templated some idle freak that might try his gallantry, 
perhaps his purse. But she was in earnest, if he was* not. 

“ I ask then, the Chevalier Bigot, that before he speaks to 
me again of love or devotion, he shall remove that lady 
whoever she may be, from Beaumanoir 1 ” Angelique sat 
erect and looked at him with a long fixed look as she said 
this. 

“ Remove that lady from Beaumanoir ! ” exclaimed he 
in complete surprise, “ Surely that poor shadow does not 
prevent your accepting my devotion, Angelique } ” 

“ Yes, but it does, Chevalier 1 I like bold men. Most 
women do, but I did not think that even the Intendant of 
New France was bold enough to make love to Angelique 
des Meloises while he kept a wife or mistress in stately 
seclusion at Beaumanoir 1 ” 

Bigot cursed the shrewishness and innate jealousy of the sex 
which would not content itself with just so much of a man’s 
favor as he chose to bestow, but must ever want to rule- 
single and alone. “Every woman is a despot,” thought he, 
“ and has no mercy upon pretenders to her throne.” 

“ That lady, ” replied he, “ is neither wife nor mistress. 
Mademoiselle. She sought the shelter of my roof with a 
claim upon the hospitality of Beaumanoir.” 

“ No doubt,” Angelique’s nostril quivered with a fine 
disdain. “The hospitality of Beaumanoir is as broad and- 
comprehensive as its master’s admiration for our sex 1 ” 
said she. 

Bigot was not angry. He gave a loud laugh : You 

T2 


THE CfflEN H OR. 


.78 

women are merciless upon each other, Mademoiselle I 
said he. 

“ Men are more merciless to women, when they beguile 
us with insincere professions ’’ replied she rising up in well 
affected indignation. . 

‘‘ Not so. Mademoiselle ! ’’ Bigot began to feel annoyed. 
That lady is nothing to me,’’ said he, without rising as she 
had done. He kept his seat. 

“ But she has been ! you have loved her at some time or 
other ! and she is now living on the scraps and leavings of 
former affection. I am never deceived, Chevalier ! ” continu- 
ed she, glancing down at him, a wild light playing under her 
long eye-lashes, like the illumined under edge of a thunder- 
cloud. 

“ But how in St. Picot’s name did you arrive at all this 
knowledge, Mademoiselle ? ” Bigot began to see that there 
was nothing for it but to comply with every caprice of this 
incomprehensible girl if he would carry his point. 

Oh nothing is easier than for a woman to divine the 
truth in such matters, Chevalier ” said she It is a sixth 
sense given to our sex, to protect our weakness ; no man 
can make love to two women, but each of them knows 
instinctively to her fingertips that he is doing it.” 

‘‘ Surely woman is a beautiful book written in golden 
letters, but in a tongue as hard to understand as hieroglyphics 
of Egypt.” Bigot was quite puzzled how to proceed with 
this incomprehensible girl. 

Thanks for the comparison, Chevalier,” replied she, 
with a laugh. ‘‘ It would not* do for men to scrutinize us too 
closely, yet one woman reads another easily as a horn book 
of Troyes, which they say is so easy that the children read 
it without learning.” 

To boldly set at defiance a man who had boasted a long 
career of success was the way to rouse his pride, and determ ine 
him to overcome her resistance. Angelique was not mis- 
taken. Bigot saw her resolution and although it was with a 
mental reservation to deceive her, he promised to banish 
Caroline from his chateau. 

‘‘ It was always my good fortune to be conquered in eveiy 
passage of arms with your sex, Angelique,” said he, at once 
radiant and submissive, “ Sit down by me in token of 
amity.” 

“ She complied without hesitation and sat down by him. 


SPLENDIDE MENDAX- 


179 


gave him her hand again and replied with an arch smile 
while a thousand inimitable coquetries played about her 
eyes and lips “ you speak now like an Amant Magnifique^ 
Chevalier ! ” 

“ Quelque fort qu ’on s’en defende, 

II y faut venir un jour I 

‘‘ It is a bargain henceforth and for ever ! Angelique ! ’’ 
said he, ‘‘ but I am a harder man than you imagine. I 
give nothing for nothing, and all for every thing. Will 
you consent to aid me and the Grand Company in a matter 
of importance ! ” 

“ Will I not ? What a question, Chevalier ! most willingly 
I will aid you in anything proper for a lady to do ! ” added 
she, with a touch of irony. 

I wish you to do it right or wrong, proper or improper, 
although there is no impropriety in it. Improper becomes 
proper if you do it. Mademoiselle ! ” 

“ Well, what is it, Chevalier ? this fearful test to prove my 
loyalty to the Grand Company ? — and which makes you 
such a matchless flatterer ? ’’ 

“ Just this, Angelique ! ” replied he. “ You have much 
influence with the Seigneur de Repentigny ? ” 

Angelique colored up to the eyes. ‘‘ With Le Gardeur ! 
What of him ? I can take no part against the Seigneur de 
Repentigny ? said she hastily. 

Against him ? For him ! We fear much that he is about 
to fall into the hands of the honnetes gens. You can prevent 
it if you will, Angelique ? ” 

‘‘ I have an honest regard for the Seigneur de Repen- 
tigny!” said she, more in answer to her own feelings than 
to the Intendants remark ; her cheek flushed, her fingers 
twitched nervously at her fan, which she broke in her 
agitation and threw the pieces vehemently upon the ground. 
‘‘ I have done harm enough to Le Gardeur, I fear,” con- 
tinued she. “ I had better not interfere with him any more ! 
Who knows what might result ? ” she looked up almost war- 
ningly at the Intendant. 

I am glad to find you so sincere a friend to Le Gar- 
deur,’' remarked Bigot craftily. “ You will be glad to 
learn that our intention is to elevate him to a high and 
lucrative office in the administration of the Company, un- 


i8o 


THE CHIEN nOR, 


less the Honnetes Gens are before us in gaining full posses- 
sion of him/’ 

“ They shall not be before us if I can prevent it, 
Chevalier,” replied she, warmly. She was indeed grateful 
for the implied compliment to Le Gardeur. No one will 
be better' pleased at his good fortune than myself.” 

‘‘ I thought so. It was partly my business to tell you of 
our intentions towards Le Gardeur.” 

‘‘ Indeed ! ” replied she, in a tone of pique. I flattered 
myself your visit was all on my own account, Chevalier.” 

“ So it was.” Bigot felt himself on rather soft ground. 
“Your brother, the Chevalier des Meloises has doubtless 
consulted you upon the plan. of life he has sketched out for 
both of you ? ” 

“ My good brother sketches so many plans of life that 
I really am not certg,in I know the one you refer to.” 
She guessed what was coming, and held her breath hard 
until she heard the reply. 

“ Well, you of course know that his plan of life depends 
mainly upon an alliance between yourself and the Cheva- 
lier de Repentigny.” 

She gave vent to her anger and disappointment. She 
rose up suddenly, and, grasping the Intendant’s arm 
fiercely, turned him half round in her vehemence. “ Chev- 
alier Bigot ! did you come here to propose for me on 
behalf of Le Gardeur de Repentigny ? ” 

“ Pardon me, Mademoiselle ; it is no proposal of mine, 
— on behalf of Le Gardeur. I sanctioned his promotion. 
Your brother, and the Grand Company generally, would 
prefer the alliance. • I don’t ! ” He said this with a tone 
of meaning which Angelique was acute enough to see im- 
plied Bigot’s unwillingness to her marrying any man — but 
himself — was the addendufn she at once placed to his 
credit. “ I regret I mentioned it,” continued he, blandly, 
“if it be contrary to your wishes.” 

“ It is contrary to my wishes,” replied she, relaxing her 
clutch of his arm. “ Le Gardeur de Repentigny can speak 
for himself. I will not allow even my brother to suggest 
it, still less will I discuss such a subject with the Chevalier 
Bigot.” 

“ I hope you will pardon me. Mademoiselle — I will not 
call you Angelique until you are pleased with me again. 
To be sure, I should never have forgiven you had you con- 


SPLENDIDE MEND AX. 


i8i 


formed to your brother’s wishes. It was what I feared 
might happen, and I — I wished to try you ; that was 
all 1 ” 

It is dangerous trying me, Chevalier,” replied she, 
resuming her seat with some heat. Don’t try me again, 
or I shall take Le Gardeur out of pure spite^^ she said. 
Pure love was in her mind, but the other word came from 
her lips. “ I will do all I can to rescue him from the 
Ho7inetes Gens, but not by marrying him, Chevalier — at 
present.” 

They seemed to understand each other fully. It is ovei 
with now,” said Bigot. “ I swear to you, Angelique, I did 
not mean to offend yom You cut deep.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” retorted she, smiling. ‘‘ Wounds by a lady 
are easily cured. They seldom leave a mark behind, a 
month after.” 

“ I don’t know that. The slight repulse of a lady’s 
finger — a touch that would not crush a gnat — will some- 
times kill a strong man like a sword-stroke. I have known 
such things to happen,” said Bigot. 

“ Well, happily, my touch has not hurt you, Chevalier. 
But, having vindicated myself, I feel I owe you repara- 
tion. You speak of rescuing Le Gardeur from the Hon- 
netes Gens. In what way can I aid you ? ” 

In many ways and all ways. Withdraw him from 
them. The great festival at the Philiberts, — when is it 
to be ? ” 

“ To-morrow ! See, they have honored me with a special 
invitation.” She drew a note from her pocket. “ This is 
very polite of Colonel Philibert, is it not ? ” said she. 

Bigot glanced superciliously at the note. Do you mean 
to go, Angelique ? ” asked he. 

“ No ; although had I no feelings but my own to con- 
sult, I would certainly go.” 

“ Whose feelings do you consult, Angelique,” asked the 
Intendant, ‘Gf not your own?” 

‘‘ Oh, don’t be flattered ! — the Grand Company’s. I am 
loyal to the association without respect to persons.” 

“ So much better,” said he. “ By the way, it would not 
be amiss to keep Le Gardeur away from the festival. 
These Philiberts and the heads of the Hotifietes Gms have 
great sway over him.*” 

‘‘ Naturally ; they are all his own kith and kin. But I 


i 82 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


will draw him away, if you desire it. I cannot prevent his 
going, but I can find means to prevent his staying ! ” added 
she, with a smile of confidence in her power. 

‘‘ That will do, Angelique ; anything to make a breach 
between them.” 

While there were abysses in Bigot’s mind which Angel- 
ique could not fathom, as little did Bigot suspect that 
when Angelique seemed to flatter him by yielding to his 
suggestions she was following out a course she had 
already decided upon in her own mind, from the moment 
she had learned that Cecile Tourangeau was to be at the 
festival of Belmont, with unlimited opportunities of ex- 
planation with Le Gardeur as to her treatment by An- 
gelique. 

The Intendant, after some pleasant badinage, rose and 
took his departure, leaving Angelique agitated, puzzled, 
and dissatisfied, on the whole, with his visit. She reclined 
on the seat, resting her head on her hand, for a long time 
— in appearance, the idlest — in reality, the busiest brain of 
any girl in the city of Quebec. She felt she had much to 
do — a great sacrifice to make — but firmly resolved, at 
whatever cost, to go through with it for, after all, the sac- 
rifice was for herself, and not for others ! 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE MEROVINGIAN PRINCESS. 

The interior of the Cathedral of St. Marie seemed like 
another world, in comparison with the noisy, bustling 
Market Place in front of it. 

The garish sunshine, poured hot and oppressive in the 
square outside, but was shorn of its strength as it passed 
through the painted windows of the cathedral, filling the 
vast interior with a cool, dim, -religious light, broken by 
tall shafts of columns, which swelled out into ornate capitals, 
supporting a lofty ceiling, on which was painted the 
open heavens with saints and angels adoring the Lord. 

A lofty arch of cunning work, overlaid with gold, the 


THE MERO VINGIAN PRINCESS, 183 

masterpiece of Le Vasseur, spanned the chancel, like the 
rainbow round the throne. Lights w^ere burning on the 
altar, incense went up in spirals to the roof ; and through 
the wavering cloud the saints and angels ' seemed to look 
down with living faces upon the crowd of worshippers who 
knelt upon the broad floor of the church. 

It was the hour of vespers. The voice of the priest 
was answered by the deep peal of the organ and the chant- 
ing of the choir. The vast edifice was filled with harmony, 
in the pauses of which the ear seemed to catch the sound 
of the river of life, as it flows out of the throne of God and 
the Lamb. 

The demeanor of the crowd of worshippers was quiet 
and reverential. A few gay groups, however, whose 
occupation was mainly to see and be seen, exchanged the 
idle gossip of the day with such of their friends as they 
met there. The fee of a prayer or two did not seem ex- 
cessive for the pleasure, and it was soon paid. 

The Perron outside was a favorite resort of the gallants 
of fashion at the hour of vespers, whose practice it was to 
salute the ladies of their acquaintance at the door by 
sprinkling their dainty fingers with holy water. Religion, 
combined with gallantry, is a form of devotion not quite 
obsolete at the present day, and at the same place. 

The church door was the recognized spot for meeting, 
gossip, business, love-making, and announcements ; old 
friends stopped to talk over the news, merchants their 
commercial prospects. It was at once the Bourse and the 
Royal Exchange of Quebec. There were promulgated by 
the brazen lungs of the city crier — royal proclamations of 
the Governor, edicts of the Intendant, orders of the Court 
of Justice, vendues public and private. In short, the life 
and stir of the city of Quebec seemed to flow about the 
door of St. Marie as the blood through the heart of a 
healthy man. 

A few old trees, relics of the primeval forest, had been 
left for shade and ornament in the great market place. A 
little rivulet of clear water ran sparkling down the slope 
of the square, where every day the shadow of the cross 
of the tall steeple lay over it like a benediction. 

A couple of young men, fashionably dressed, loitered 
this afternoon near the great door of the Convent in the 
narrow street that runs into the great square of the market. 


184 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


They walked about with short impatient turns, occasionally 
glancing at the .clock of the Recollets, visible through the 
tall elms that bounded the garden of the Grey Friars. Pre- 
sently the door of the Convent opened. Half a dozen 
gaily-attired young ladies, mtemes or pupils of the convent, 
sallied out. They had exchanged their conventual dress 
for their usual outside attire, and got leave to go out into 
the world, on some errand, real or pretended, for one hour 
and no more. 

They tripped lightly down the broad steps, and were 
instantly joined by the young men who had been waiting 
for them. After a hasty, merry hand-shaking, the whole 
party proceeded in great glee towards the Market Place, 
where the shops of the mercers and confectioners offered 
the attractions they sought. They went on purchasing 
bon-bons and ribbons from one shop to another, until they 
reached the Cathedral, when a common impulse seized 
them to see who was there. They flew up the steps and 
disappeared in the church. 

In the midst of their devotions, as they knelt upon the 
floor, the sharp eyes of the young ladies were caught by 
gesticulations of the well-gloved hand of the Chevalier des 
Meloises, as he saluted them across the aisle. 

The hurried recitation of an Ave or two had quite satis- 
fied the devotion of the Chevalier, and he looked round 
the church with an air of condescension, criticizing the 
music and peering into the faces of such of the ladies as 
looked up, and many did so, to return his scrutiny. 

The young ladies encountered him in the aisle as they 
left the church before the service was finished. It had 
long since been finished for him, and was finished for the 
young ladies also, when they had satisfied their curiosity to 
see who was there and who with whom. - 

“ We cannot pray for you any longer, Chevalier des 
Meloises ! ’’ said one of the gayest of the group ; the 
Lady Superior has economically granted us but one hour 
in the city to make our purchases and attend vespers. Out 
of that hour we can only steal forty minutes for a promen- 
ade through the city, so good bye, if you prefer the church 
to our company, or come with us and you shall escort two 
of us. You see we have only a couple of gentlemen to six 
ladies.’’ 

‘‘ I much prefer your company, Mademoiselle de Broua- 


THE MEROVINGIAN PRINCESS 185 

gue ! ” replied he gallantly, forgetting the important meet- 
ing of the managers of the Grand Company at the Palace. 
The business, however, was being cleverly transacted with- 
out his help. 

Louise de Brouague had no great esteem for the Chev- 
alier des Meloises, but, as she remarked to a companion, 
he made rather a neat walking stick, if a young lady could 
procure no better, to promenade with. 

“We come out in full force to-day, Chevalier,” said she, 
with a merry glance round the group of lively girls. “ A 
glorious sample of the famous class of the Louises, are we 
not .? ” 

“ Glorious ! superb ! incomparable ! ” the Chevalier re- 
plied, as he inspected them archly through his glass. “ But 
how did you manage to get out ? One Louise at a time is 
enough to storm the city, but six of them at once ! The 
Lady Superior is full of mercy to-day.” 

“ Oh ! is she ? listen ! We should not have got permis- 
sion to come out to-day had we not first laid siege to the 
soft heart of Mere des Seraphins. She it was who inter- 
ceded for us, and lo ! here we are ready for any adventure 
that may befall errant demoiselles in the streets of Que- 
bec ! ” 

Well might th6 fair Louise de Brouague boast of the 
famous class of “ the Louises,” all composed of young la- 
dies of that name, distinguished for beauty, rank, and 
fashion in the world of New France. 

Prominent among them at that period was the beautiful, 
gay Louise de Brouague. In the full maturity of her 
charms as the wife of the Chevalier de Lery, she accom- 
panied her husband to England after the cession of Canada, 
and went to Court to pay homage to their new sovereign, 
George III., when the young king, struck with her grace 
and beauty, gallantly exclaimed : 

“ If the ladies of Canada are as handsome as you, I have 
indeed made a conquest ! ” 

To escort young ladies, internes of the Convent, when 
granted permission to go out into the city, was a favorite 
pastime, truly a labor of love of the young gallants of that 
day. An occupation, if very idle, at least ver}^ -agree- 
able to those participating in these stolen promenades, and 
which have not, perhaps, been altogether discontinued in 
Quebec even to the present day ! 


i86 


THE CHIENHOR. 


The pious nuns were, of course, entirely ignorant of the 
contrivances of their fair pupils to amuse themselves in the 
city. At any rate, they good-naturedly overlooked things 
they could not quite prevent. They had human hearts 
still under their snowy wimples, and perhaps did not wholly 
lack womanly sympathy with the dear girls in their charge. 

“ Why are you not at Belmont to-day, Chevalier cles 
Meloises ? ” boldly asked Louise Roy, a fearless little ques- 
tioner, in a gay summer robe. She was pretty, and sprightly 
as Titania. Her long chestnut hair was the marvel and 
boast of the convent, and, what she prized more, the ad- 
miration of the city. It covered her like a veil down to her 
knees, when she chose to let it down in a flood of splendor. 
Her deep grey eyes contained wells of womanly wisdom. 
Her skin, fair as a lily of Artois, had borrowed from the 
sun five or six faint freckles just to prove the purity of her 
blood and distract the eye with a variety of charms. The 
Merovingian Princess, the long-haired daughter of kings, as 
she was fondly styled by the nuns, queened it wherever she 
went by right divine of youth, wit and beauty. 

‘‘ I should not have had the felicity of meeting you. 
Mademoiselle Roy, had I gone to Belmont,’’ replied the 
Chevalier, not liking the question at all. ‘‘ I preferred not 
to go.” 

‘‘ You are always so polite and complimentary,” re- 
plied she, a trace of pout visible on her pretty lips. ‘‘ I do 
not see how any one could stay away who was at liberty to 
go to Belmont ! And tlve whole city has gone I am sure ! 
for I see nobody in the street ! ” — She held an eye-glass 
coquettishly to her eye. Nobody at all ! ” repeated she. 
Her companians accused her afterwards of glancing equiv- 
ocally at the Chevalier as she made this remark ; and she 
answered with a merry laugh, that might imply either as- 
sent or denial. 

‘‘ Had you heard in the Convent of the festival at Bel- 
mont, Mademoiselle Roy ? ” asked he, twirling his cane 
rather majestically. 

“ We have heard of nothing else, and talked of nothing 
else, for a whole week ! ” replied she. Our mistresses 
have been in a state of distraction trying to stop our inces- 
sant whispering in the school, instead of minding our les- 
sons like good girls, trying to earn good conduct marks ! 
The feast, the ball, the dresses, the company, beat learn- 


ri/E Af£ROVmGIAN FJ^IJVCESS. 187 

ing out of our heads and hearts ! only fancy ! Chevalier ! 
she went on in her voluble* manner. “ Louise de Beaujeu 
here was asked to give the Latin name for heaven, and 
she at once translated it Belmont! ” 

“Tell no school tales, Mademoiselle Roy retorted 
Louise de Beaujeu, her black eyes flashing with merri- 
ment. “ It was a good translation ! but who was it stum- 
bled in the Greek class, when asked for the proper name 
of the Anax Andron, the king of men in the Iliad ? ” 
Louise Roy looked archly and said defiantly ; “ Go on ! ’’ 
“Would you believe it, Chevalier, she replied — Pierre 
Philibert 1 Mere Christine fairly gasped, but Louise had 
to kiss the floor as a penance for pronouncing a gentle- 
man’s name with such unction.” 

“ And if I did, I paid my penance heartily and loudly, 
as you may recollect, Louise de Beaujeu, although I con- 
fess I would have preferred kissing Pierre Philibert himself 
if I had had my choice 1 ” 

“ Always her way ! won’t give in ! never I Louise Roy 
stands by her translation in spite of all the Greek Lexicons 
in the Convent 1 ” exclaimed Louise de Brouague. 

“And so I do, and will, and Pierre Philibert is the 
king of men, in New France or old ! ask Amelie de Re- 
pentigny ! ” added she, in a half whisper to her com 
panion. 

“O she will swear to it any day! ” was the saucy re- 
ply of Louise de Brouague. “ But without whispering it, 
Chevalier des Meloises ! ” continued she, “ the classes in 
the Convent have all gone wild in his favor since they 
learned he was in love with one of our late companions in 
school. He is the Prince Camaralzaman of our fairy 
tales.” 

“ Who is that ? ” The Chevalier spoke tartly rather. 
He was excessively annoyed at all this enthusiasm in be- 
half of Pierre Philibert. 

“ Nay, I will tell no more fairy tales out of school, but 
I assure you if our wishes had wings the whole class of 
Louises would fly away to Belmont, to-day like a flock of 
ring doves.” 

Louise de Brouague noticed the pique of the Chevalier, 
at the mention of Philibert, but in that spirit of petty tor- 
ment with which her sex avenges small slights, she con- 
tinued to irritate the vanity of the Chevalier, whom in her 
heart she despised. 


i88 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


His politeness nearly gave way. He was thoroughly 
disgusted with all this lavish praise of Philibert. He sud- 
denly recollected that he had an appointment at the 
Palace, which would prevent him, he said, enjoying the 
full hour of absence granted to the Greek class of the 
Ursulines. 

‘‘ Mademoiselle Angelique has of course gone to Bel- 
mont, if pressing engagements prevent you^ Chevalier,” 
said Louise Roy. ‘‘ How provoking it must be to have 
business to look after when one wants to enjoy life ! ” 
The Chevalier half spun round on his heel under the quiz- 
zing of Louise’s eye glass. 

No, Angelique has not gone to Belmont,” replied he, 
quite piqued. “She very properly declined to mingle 
with the Messieurs and Mesdames Jourdains, who consort 
with the Bourgeois Philiber.t ! She was preparing for 2 
ride, and the city really seems all the gayer by the absence 
of so many common place people as have gone out to Bel- 
mont.” 

Louise de Brouague’s eyes gave a few flashes of indig- 
nation. “ Fie ! Chevalier, that was naughtily said of you 
about the good Bourgeois and his friends,” exclaimed she, 
impetuously. “ Why the Governor, the Lady de Tilly 
and her niece, the Chevalier La Come St. Luc, Hortense 
and Claude Beauharnois and I know not how many more 
of the very elite of society have gone to do honor to 
Colonel Philibert ! And as for the girls in the Convent, 
who you will allow are the most important and most select 
portion of the community, there is not one of us but 
would willingly jump out of the window, and do penance 
on dry br^ad and salt flsh for a month, just for one hour’s 
pleasure at the ball this evening, would we not, Louises } ” 

Not a Louise present but assented with an emphasis, 
that brought sympathetic smiles upon the faces of the two 
young Chevaliers, who had watched all this pretty play. 

The Chevalier des Meloises bowed very low. “ I re- 
gret so much, ladies, to have to leave you ! but affairs of 
State you know ! — affairs of State ! The Intendant will 
not proceed without a full board, I must attend the meet- 
ing to-day at the Palace.” 

“ Oh, assuredly, Chevalier,” replied Louise Roy. 
“ What would become of the nation, what would become 
of the world, nay, what would become of the Internes of 


THE MERO VINGIAN PRINCESS. 1 89 

the Ursulines, if statesmen and warriors and philosophers 
like you and the^ Sieurs Drouillon and La Force here, 
(this in a parenthesis, not to scratch the Chevalier too 
deep), did not take wise counsel for our safety, and happi- 
ness and also for the welfare of the nation ? ” 

The Chevalier des Meloises took his departure under 
this shower of arrows. 

The young La Force was as yet only an idle dangler 
about the city ; but in the course of time became a man of 
wit and energy worthy of his name. He replied gaily : — 

“ Thanks, Mademoiselle Roy ! It is just for sake of 
the fair internes of the Convent that Drouillon and I, have 
taken up the vocation of statesmen, warriors, philoso- 
phers, and friends. We are quite ready to guide your in- 
nocent footsteps through the streets of this perilous city, 
if you are ready to go.” 

“ We had better hasten, too ! ” ejaculated Louise Roy, 
looking archly through her eye glass. ‘‘ I can see Bon- 
homme Michel peeping round the corner of the Cote de 
Lery ! He is looking after us stray lambs of the flock, 
Sieur Drouillon ! ” 

Bonhomme Michel was the old watchman and Facto 
turn of the Monastery. He had a general commission to 
keep a sharp eye upon the young ladies, who were allowed 
to go out into the city. A pair of horn spectacles usually 
helped his vision, sometimes marred it, however ! when 
the knowing gallants slipped a crown into his hand, to put 
in the place of his magnifiers. Bonhomme Michel, placed 
all his propitiation money, — he liked a pious word, — in his 
old leathern sack which contained the redemption of many 
a gadding promenade through the streets of Quebec. 
Whether he reported what he saw this time is not re- 
corded in the Vieux Recit, the old annals of the Convent. 
But as Louise Roy called him her dear old Cupid 1 and 
knew so well how to bandage his eyes, it is probable the 
good nuns were not informed of the pleasant meeting of 
the Class Louises and the gentlemen who escorted them 
round the city on the present occasion. 

Poor Michel Bonhomme 1 This history would be incom- 
plete unless it recorded his death at a most patriarchal 
old age in the monastery, when to ease his good old soul 
at last, he piously bequeathed his leathern sack, filled with 
coins of every stamp paid him in propitiation of so many 


THE CHIEN nOR, 


190 

hundred sweet stolen promenades of the lively inte7'nes of 
the Convent. 

The . Nuns were not inexorable, when he died confessing 
his faults. They received his bequest, pardoned his occa- 
sional blindness and good nature, had masses said yearly 
for his good old soul, long, long after the memory of his 
honest Breton face had been forgotten by the new genera- 
tions of city gallants and internes that followed in the 
city of Quebec. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

PUT MONEY IN THY PURSE. 

The Chevalier des Meloises, quite out of humor with 
the merry Louises, picked his way with quick, dainty steps 
down the Rue du Palais. The gay Louises, before re- 
turning to the Convent, resolved to make a hasty promen- 
ade to the walls to see the ,people at work upon them. 
They received with great contentment the military salutes of 
the officers of their acquaintance which they acknowledged 
with the courtesy of well trained mte7mes^ slightly exaggerated 
by provoking smiles and mischievous glances which had 
formed no part of the lessons in politeness, taught them by 
the Nuns. 

Injustice be it said, however, the girls were actuated 
by a nobler feeling than the mere spirit of amusement — a 
sentiment of loyalty to France, a warm enthusiasm for 
their country drew them- to the walls. They wanted to 
see the defenders of Quebec, to show their sympathy and 
smile approval upon them. 

‘‘Would to heaven I were a man ! ’’ exclaimed Louise 
de Brouague, “ that I might wield a sword, a spade, any- 
thing of use, to serve my country ! I shame to do noth- 
ing but talk, pray and suffer for it, while every one else is 
working or fighting.’’ 

Poor girl ! she did not foresee a day when the women 
of New France would undergo trials compared with which 
the sword stroke that kills the strong man is as the touch 
of mercy ; when the batteries of Wolfe would for sixty -five 


PUT MONEY IN THY PURSE. 


191 

days, shower shot and shell upon Quebec, and the South 
shore, for a hundred miles together, be blazing with the 
fires of devastation. Such things were mercifully withheld 
from their foresight and the light hearted girls went the 
round of the works as gaily as they would have tripped in 
a ball room. 

The Chevalier des Meloises, passing through the Porte 
du Palais, was hailed by two or three young officers of the 
Regiment of Bearn who invited him into the Guard House 
to take a glass of wine before descending the steep hill. 
The Chevalier stopped willingly, and entered the well 
furnished quarters of the officers of the guard where a cool 
flask of Burgundy presently restored him to good humor 
with himself, and consequently with the world. 

“ What is up to-day at the Palace ? ’’ asked Captain 
Monredin, a vivacious Navarrois,’’ ‘‘all the Gros Bonnets 
of the Grand Company have gone down this afternoon ! I 
suppose you are going too, Des Meloises ? ” 

“ Yes ! They have sent for me you see on affairs of 
state ! what Penisault calls ‘ business,' not a drop of wine 
on the board ! Nothing but books and papers, bills and 
shipments, money paid, money received ! Doit et avoir 
and all the cursed lingo of the Friponne ! I damn the 
Friponne, but bless her money ! It pays. Monredin ! It 
pays better than fur trading at a lonely out-post in the 
northwest." The Chevalier jingled a handful of coin in 
his pocket. The sound was a sedative to his disgust at 
the idea of trade, and quite reconciled him to the Fri- 
ponne. 

“ You are a lucky dog, nevertheless, to be able to make 
it jingle ! " said Monredin, “ not one of us Bearnois can play 
an accompaniment to your air of money in both pockets." 
Here is our famous regiment of Bearn, second to none in 
the King’s service, a whole year in arrear with our pay ! Gad J 
I wish I could go into ‘ business,’ as you call it, and woo 
that jolly Dame, La Friponne ! ’’ 

“ For six months we have lived on trust. Those 
leeches of Jews, who call themselves Christians, down in 
the Sault au Matelot, won’t cash the best orders in the regi- 
ment for less than forty per cent, discount ! ’’ 

“ That is true ! ’’ broke in another officer, whose rather 
rubicund face told of credit somewhere, and the product 
of credit, good wine and good dinners generally. “ That is 


192 


THE CHIEN D'' OR. 


true, Monredin ! The old curmudgeon of a broker at the 
corner of the Cul de Sac had the impudence to ask me 
fifty per cent, discount upon my drafts on Bourdeaux ! I 
agree with Des Meloises there ; business may be a good 
thing for those who handle it, but devil touch their dirty 
fingers for me ?” 

‘‘Don’t condemn all of them, Emeric,” said Captain 
Poulariez, a quiet, resolute-looking officer. “ There is one 
merchant in the city who carries the principles of a gen- 
tleman into the usages of commerce. The Bourgeois 
Philibert gives cent, per cent, for good orders of the 
king’s officers, just to show his sympathy with the army 
and his love for France.” 

“ Well, I wish he were paymaster of the forces, that is 
all, and then I could go to him if I wanted to,” replied 
Monredin. 

“ Why do you not go to him ?” asked Poulariez. 

“ Why, for the same reason, I suppose, so many others 
of us do not,” replied Monredin. “ Colonel Dalquier en- 
dorses my orders, and he hates the Bourgeois cordially, 
as a hot friend of the Intendant ought to do. So, you see, 
I have to submit to be plucked of my best pen-feathers by 
that old Fesse Mathieu.^ Penisault, at the Friponne ! ” 

“ How many of yours have gone out to the great spread 
at Belmont ? ” asked Des Meloises, quite weary of commer- 
cial topics. 

“ Pardieu ! ” replied Monredin, “ except the colonel 
and adjutant, who stayed away on principle, I think 
every officer in the regiment present company excepted, 
who being on duty could not go, much to their chagrin. 
Such a glorious crush of handsome girls has not been 
seen, they say, since our regiment came to Quebec.” 

“And not likely to have been seen before your distin- 
guished arrival — eh. Monredin ? ” ejaculated Des Meloises, 
holding his glass to be refilled. “ That is delicious Bur- 
gundy,” added he. “ I did not think anyone beside the 
Intendant had wine like that.” 

“’That is some of La Martiniere’s cargo,” replied Poul- 
ariez. “ It was kind of him, was it not ? to remember us, 
poor Bearnois here on the wrong side of the Atlantic ? ” 

“ And Low earnestly we were praying for that same 
Burgundy,” ejaculated Monredin, “when it came, as if 
dropped upon us by Providence. Health and wealth to 


PUT MONEY IN THY PURSE. 


193 

Captain La Martinibre, and the good frigate Fleur de 
Lys.r^ 

Another round followed. 

“ They talk about those ]2Lnsems1:convulsionnaires at the 
tomb of Master Paris, which are setting all France by the 
ears,” exclaimed Monredin, but I say there is nothing so 
contagious as the drinking of a glass of wine like that.” 

‘‘ And the glass gives us convulsions, too. Monredin, if 
we try it too often, and no miracle about it either,” re- 
marked Poulariez. 

Monredin looked up red and puffy, as if needing a 
bridle to check his fast gait. 

But they say we are to have peace soon. Is that true, 
Des Meloises ? ” asked Poulariez. You ought to know 
what is under the cards before they are played.” 

‘‘No, I don’t know; and I hope the report is not true. 
Who wants peace yet ? It would ruin the king’s friends in 
the colony.” Des Meloises looked as statesmanlike as he 
could when delivering this dictum. 

“ Ruin the king’s friends ! Who are they, Des Mel- 
oises?” asked Poulariez, with a look of well-assumed sur- 
prise. 

“ Why the associates of the Grand Company, to be 
sure. What other friends has the king got in New 
France ?” 

“ Really ! I thought he had the Regiment of Bearn 
for a number of them ; to say nothing of the honest 
people of the colony,” replied Poulariez, impatiently. 

“ The Ho 7 inetes Gens., you mean ! ” exclaimed des Mel- 
oises. “Well, Poulariez, all I have to say is that if this 
colony is to be kept up for the sake of a lot of shop-keepers 
wood-choppers, cobblers and farmers, the sooner the 
king hands it over to the devil or the English the better ! ” 

Poulariez looked indignant enough ; but from the others 
a loud laugh followed this sally. 

The Chevalier des Meloises pulled out his watch. “ I 
must begone to the Palace,” said he.” “ I dare say 
Cadet, Varin, and Penisault will have balanced the ledgers 
by this time, and the Intendant, who is the devil for busi- 
ness on such occasions, will have settled the dividends for 
the quarter — the only part of the business I care about.” 

“ But, don’t you help them with the work a little ? ” 
asked Poulariez. 

L 3 


194 


THE CHIENHOR, 


Not I ; I leave business to them that have a vocation 
for it. Besides, I think Cadet, Varin and Penisault like to 
keep the inner ring of the company to themselves.’’ He 
turned to Emeric : I hope there will be a good dividend 

to-night, Emeric,” said he. “ I owe you some revenge' at 
piquet, do I not ? ” 

“You capoted me last night at the Taverne de Menut, 
and I had three aces and three kings.” 

“ But I had a quatorze^ and took the fishes,” replied 
Des Meloises. 

Well, Chevalier, I shall win them back to-night. I hope 
the dividend will be good. In that way I, too, may share 
in the ‘ business ’ of the Grand Company.” 

“ Good-bye, Chevalier ; remember me to St. Blague ! ” 
(This was a familiar soubriquet of Bigot.) “ ’Tis the best 
name going. If I had an heir for the old chateau on the 
Adour, I would christen him Bigot for luck.” 

The Chevalier des Meloises left the officers, and pro- 
ceeded down the steep road that led to the Palace. The ' 
gardens were quiet to-day. A few loungers might be seen in 
the magnificent alleys, pleached walks and terraces. Beyond 
these gardens, however, stretched the king’s wharves and 
the magazines of the Friponne. These fairly swarmed 
with men loading and unloading ships and bateaux, and 
piling and unpiling goods. 

The Chevalier glanced with disdain at the magazines, 
and flourishing his cane, mounted leisurely the broad steps 
of the palace, and was at once admitted to the Council 
room. 

“ Better late than never, Chevalier des Meloises ! ” 
exclaimed Bigot, carelessly glancing at him as he took a 
seat at the Board, where sat Cadet, Varin, Penisault and the 
leading spirits of the Grand Company. “ You are in double 
luck to-day. The business is over, and Dame Friponne has 
laid a golden egg worth a Jew’s tooth for each partner of 
the Company.” 

The Chevalier did not notice, or did not care for, the 
slight touch of sarcasm in the Intendant’s tone. “ Thanks, 
Bigot ! ” drawled he. “ My egg shall be hatched to-night 
down at Menut’s. I expect to have little more left than 
the shell of it to-morrow.” 

“Well, never mind ! We have considered all that, 
Chevalier. What one loses another gets. It is all in the 


PUT MONEY IN THY PURSE. 


195 


family. Look here,’’ continued he, laying his finger upon 
a page of the ledger that lay open before him, Madem- 
oiselle Angelique des Meloises is now a shareholder in the 
Grand Company. The list of high, fair, and noble ladies 
of the Court who are members of the Company will be 
honored by the addition of the name of your charming 
sister.” 

The Chevalier’s eyes sparkled with delight as he read 
Angelique’s name on the book. A handsome sum of five 
digits stood to her credit. He bowed his thanks with ' 
many warm expressions of his sense of the honor done 
his sister by placing her name on the roll of the ladies of 
the Court who honor the Company by accepting a share of 
its dividends.” 

“ I hope Mademoiselle des Meloises will not refuse this 
small mark of our respect,” observed Bigot, feeling well 
assured she would not deem it a small one.” 

Little fear of that ! ” muttered Cadet, whose bad 
opinion of the sex was incorrigible. The game fowls 
of Versailles scratch jewels out of every dung hill, and 
Angelique des Meloises has longer claws than any of 
them ! ” 

Cadet’s ill natured remark was either unheard or un- 
heeded. Besides he was privileged to say anything. Des 
Meloises bowed with an air of perfect complaisance to the 
Intendant as he answered, “ I will guarantee the perfect 
satisfaction of Angelique with this marked compliment of 
the Grand Company. She will, I am sure, appreciate the 
kindness of the Intendant as it deserves.” 

Cadet and Varin exchanged smiles, not unnoticed by 
Bigot, who smiled too. “ Yes, Chevalier,” said he, ‘‘ the 9 
Company gives this token of its admiration for the fairest 
lady in New France. We have bestowed premiums upon 
fine flax and fat cattle ; why not upon beauty, grace, and 
wit embodied in handsome women ? ” 

Angelique will be highly flattered, Chevalier,” replied 
he, “ at the distinction. She must thank you herself, as I 
am sure she will.” 

‘‘ I am happy to try to deserve her thanks,” replied 
Bigot j and, not caring to talk further on the subject : 

“ what news in the city this afternoon, Chevalier \ ” asked 
he ; “ how does that affair at Belmont go off ^ ” 

‘‘ Don’t know. Half the city has gone, I think. At 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


196 

the Church door, however, the talk among the merchants is 
that peace is going to be made soon. Is it so very threat- 
ening, Bigot ? ” 

‘‘ If the King wills it, it is.’^ Bigot spoke carelessly. 

‘‘ But your own opinion, Chevalier Bigot ; what think 
you of it ? ’’ 

“ Amen ! amen ! Quod fiat fiatur! Seigny John, the 
fool of Paris, could enlighten you as well as I could as to 
what the women at Versailles may decide to do,’’ replied 
Bigot in a tone of impatience. 

“ I fear peace will be made. What will you do in that 
case. Bigot ? ” asked Des Meloises, not noticing Bigot’s 
aversion to the topic. 

“ If the King makes it. Invitus arnaho ! as the man 
said who married the shrew.” Bigot laughed mockingly. 
“ We must make the best of it, Des Meloises ! and let me 
tell you privately, I mean to make a good thing of it for 
ourselves, whichever way it turns.” 

‘‘ But what will become of the Company should the war 
expenditure stop ? ” The Chevalier was thinking of his 
dividend of five figures. 

“ Oh ! you should have been here sooner, Des Meloises. 
you would have heard our grand settlement of the question 
in every contingency of peace or war.” 

“ Be sure of one thing,” continued Bigot, the Grand 
Company will not, like the eels of Melun, cry out before 
they are skinned. What says the proverb, ^ Mieux vaut 
engin que force ’ ” (craft beats strength). ‘‘The Grand Com- 
pany must prosper as the first condition of life in New 
France. Perhaps a year or two of repose may not be 
amiss, to revictual and reinforce the colony ; and by that 
time we shall be ready to pick the lock of Bellona’s temple 
again, and cry Vive la Guerre ! Vive la Gra7ide Compagnie I 
more merrily than ever ! ” 

Bigot’s far-reaching intellect forecast the course of 
events, which remained so much subject to his own direc- 
tion after the peace of Aix la Chapelle — a peace which in 
America was never a peace at all, but only an armed and 
troubled truce between the clashing interests and rival 
ambitions of the French and English in the new world. 

The meeting of the Board of Managers of the Grand 
Company broke up, and — a circumstance that rarely hap- 
pened — without the customary debauch. Bigot, preoccu- 


PUT MONEY IN THY PURSE, 


197 


pied with his own projects, which reached far beyond the 
mere interests of the Company, retired to his couch. 
Cadet, Varin, and Penisault, forming an interior circle of 
the Friponne, had certain matters to shape for the Com- 
pany’s eye. The rings of corruption in the Grand Com- 
pany descended, narrower and more black and precipitous, 
down to the bottom where Bigot sat, the Demiurgos of 
all. 

The Chevalier des Meloises was rather proud of his 
sister’s beauty and cleverness, and in truth a little afraid 
of her. They lived together harmoniously enough, so long 
as each allowed the other his or her own way. Both took 
it, and followed their own pleasures, and were not usually 
disagreeable to one another, except when Angelique com- 
mented on what she called his penuriousness, and he 
upon her extravagance, in the financial administration of 
the family of the Des Meloises. 

The Chevalier was highly delighted to-day to be able 
to inform Angelique of her good fortune in becoming a 
partner of the Friponne, and that too by grace of his Ex- 
cellency the Intendant. The information filled ' Angelique 
with delight, not only because it made her independent of 
her brother’s mismanagement of money, but it opened a 
door to her wildest hopes. In that gift — her ambition 
found a potent ally to enable her to resist the appeal to 
her heart, which she knew would be made to night, by Le 
Gardeur de Repentigny. 

The Chevalier des Meloises had no idea of his sister’s 
own aims. He had long nourished a foolish fancy, that if 
he had not obtained the hand of the wealthy and beautiful 
heiress of Repentigny, it was because he had not pro- 
posed. Something to-day had suggested the thought that 
unless he did propose soon, his chances would be nil, and 
another might secure the prize which he had in his vain 
fancy set down as his own. 

‘‘ He hinted to Angelique to-day, that he had almost re* 
solved to marry, and that his projected alliance with the 
noble and wealthy house of Tilly could be easily accom- 
plished, if Angelique would only do her share as a sister 
ought, in securing her brother’s fortune and happiness. 

‘‘ How ? ” asked she, looking up savagely, for she knew 
well what her brother was driving at. 

‘‘By your accepting Le Gardeur without more delay ! 


THE CHIEH HOE. 


198 

All the city knows he is mad in love, and would marry you 
any day you choose, if you wore only the hair on your 
head. He would ask no better fortune ! ” 

It is useless to advise me, Renaud ! ’’ said she, and 
whether I take Le Gardeur or no, it would not help your 
chance with Amelie ! I am sorry for it, for Amelie is a 
prize, Renaud ! but not for you at any price. Let me tell 
you, that desirable young lady will become the bride of 
Pierre Philibert, and the bride of no other man living.’’ 

You give one cold encouragement, sister ! But I am 
sure, if you would only marry Le Gardeur, you could easily, 
with your tact and cleverness, induce Amdlie to let me 
share the Tilly fortune. There are chests full of gold in 
the old Manor House ! and, a crow could hardly fly in a 
day, over their broad lands ! ” 

‘‘ Perfectly useless, brother ! Amelie is not like most 
girls. She would refuse the hand of a king, for the sake of 
the man she loves, and she loves Pierre Philibert to his 
finger ends. She has married him in her heart a thousand 
times. I hate paragons of women, and would scorn to be 
one ! but I tell you brother, Amelie is a paragon of a girl, 
without knowing it ! ” 

Hum, I never tried my hand on a paragon, I should 
like to do so,” replied he with a smile of decided confi- 
dence in his powers. “ I fancy they are just like other 
women, when you can catch them with their armor off.” 

Yes, but women like Amelie, never lay off their 

armor ! They seem born in it like Minerva. But your 

vanity will not let you believe me, Renaud ! So go try 
her, and tell me your luck ! She won’t scratch you nor 
scold. Amelie is a lady, and will talk to you like a Queen, 
But she will give you a polite reply to your proposal that 
will improve your opinions of our sex.” 

You are mocking me, Angelique, as you always do! 
One never knows when you are in jest or when in earnest. 
Even when you get angry, it is often unreal, and for a pur- 
pose ! I want you to be serious for once. The fortune 

of the Tillys and De Repentignys is the best in New 

France, and we can make it ours if you will help me.” 

I am serious enough, in wishing you those chests full oi 
gold, and those broad lands that a crow cannot fly over in 
a day. But I must forego my share of them, and so must 
you yours, brother ! ” Angelique leaned back in her chair, 


PUT MONE Y IN THY PURSE. 


199 

desiring to stop further discussion of a topic she did not 
like to hear. 

Why must you forego your share of the de Repentigny 
fortune, Angelique? You could call it your own any day 
you chose by giving your little finger to Le Gardeui^ you 
do really puzzle me ! ’’ 

The Chevalier did look perplexed at his inscrutable 
sister, who only smiled over the table at him, as she non- 
chalantly cracked nuts and sipped her wine by drops. 

“ Of course I puzzle you, Renaud ! ” said she at last. 
‘‘I am a puzzle to myself sometimes. But you see there 
are so many men in the world, poor ones are so plenty, 
rich ones so scarce, and sensible ones hardly to be found 
at all, that a woman may be excused for selling herself to 
the highest bidder. Love is a commodity only spoken of in 
romances or in the patois of milkmaids, now-a-days ! ’’ 

Zounds ! Angelique, you would try the patience of 
all the saints in the calendar ! I shall pity the fellow you 
take in ! Here is the fairest fortune in the Colony, about 
to fall into the hands of Pierre Philibert ; whom Satan con- 
found for his assurance ! A fortune which I always re- 
garded as my own ! 

‘‘ It shows the folly and vanity of your sex ! you never 
spoke a word to Amelie de Repentigny in the way of woo- 
ing in your life ! Girls like her don’t drop into men’s arms 
just for the asking.” 

‘‘ Pshaw ! as if she would refuse me if you only acted 
a sister’s part ! But you are impenetrable as a rock, and 
the whole of your fickle sex could not match your vanity 
and caprice, Angelique.” 

She rose quickly with a provoked air. 

‘‘ You are getting so complimentary to my poor sex, 
Renaud,” said she, ‘‘ that I must really leave you to 
yourself, and I could scarcely leave you in worse com- 
pany.” 

‘‘You are so bitter and sarcastic upon one,” replied 
he, tartly ; “ my only desire was to secure a good fortune 
for you, and another for myself. I don’t see, for my part, 
what women are made for, except to mar everything a man 
wants to do for himself and for them ! ” 

“ Certainly everything should be done for us, brother ; 
but I have no defence to make for my sex, none ! I dare 
say we women deserve all that men think of us, but then it 


200 


THE CHI END" OR. 


is impolite to tell us so to our faces. Now, as I advised 
you, Renaud, I would counsel you to study gardening, and 
you may one day arrive at as great distinction as,, the 
Marquis de Vandriere — you may cultivate chou chou if you 
cannot raise a bride like Amelie de Repentigny,” 

Angelique knew her brother’s genius was not penetrat- 
ing, or she would scarcely have ventured this broad 
allusion to the brother of La Pompadour, who, by virtue 
of his relationship to the Court favorite, had recently been 
created Director of the Royal Gardens. What fancy was 
working in the brain of Angelique when she alluded to 
him may be only surmised. 

The Chevalier was indignant, however, at an implied 
comparison between himself and the plebeian Marquis de 
Vandriere. He replied with some heat. 

The Marquis de Vandriere ! How dare you mention 
him and me together ? There’s not an officer’s mess in 
the army that receives the son of the fishmonger ! Why 
do you mention him, Angelique? You are a perfect 
riddle ! ” 

‘‘ I only thought something might happen, brother, if I 
should ever go to Paris ! I was acting a charade in my 
fancy, and that was the solution of it ! ” 

‘‘ What was ? You would drive the whole Sorbonne 
mad with your charades and fancies ! But I must leave 
you.” 

‘‘ Good-bye, brother, if you will go. Think of it ! — if 
you want to rise in the world you may yet become a Royal 
Gardener like the Marquis de Vandriere!” Her silvery 
laugh rang out good humoredly as he descended the stairs 
and passed out of the house. 

She sat down in her fauteuil. “ Pity Renaud is such a 
fool ! ” said she ; “ yet I am not sure but he is wiser in 
his folly than I with all my tact and cleverness, which I 
suspect are going to make a greater fool of me than ever 
he is ! ” ■ 

She leaned back in her chair in a deep thinking mood. 
“ It is growing dark,” murmured she. “ Le Gardeur will 
assuredly be here soon, in spite of all the attractions of 
Belmont. How to deal with him when he comes is more 
than I know. He will renew his suit, I am sure.” 

For a moment the heart of Angelique softened in her 
bosom. “ Accept him I must not ! ” said she ; “ affront 


CROSS QUESTIONING, 


201 


him I will not ! cease to love him is out of my power, as 
much as is my ability to love the Intendant, whom I cor- 
dially detest, and shall marry all the same ! She pressed 
her hands over her eyes, and sat silent for a few minutes. 
‘‘ But I am not sure of it ! That woman remains still at 
Beaumanoir ! Will my scheming to remove her be all in 
vain or no ? ’’ Ang^lique recollected with a shudder a 
thought that had leaped in her bosom, like a young Satan, 
engendered of evil desires. “ I dare hardly look in the 
honest eyes of Le Gardeur after nursing such a monstrous 
fancy as that,’’ said she ; ‘‘ but my fate is fixed all the 
same. Le Gardeur will vainly try to undo this knot in my 
life, blithe must leave me to my own devices.” To what 
devices she left him, was a thought that sprang not up in 
her purely selfish nature. 

In her perplexity Angelique tied knot upon knot hard 
as pebbles in her handkerchief. Those knots of her 
destiny, as she regarded them, she left untied, and they 
remain untied to this day — a memento of her character 
and of those knots in her life which posterity has puzzled 
itself over to no purpose to explain. 


CHAPTER XX. 

CROSS QUESTIONING. 

Angelique, weary of her own reflections upon the un- 
certainties of fortune, summoned Lizette to arrange her 
toilette afresh, and amuse or rather distract her thoughts 
by retailing the latest gossip of the Quartier. That was 
Lizette’s world — a stirring little world, too, in those days, 
an epitome of France itself, a Paris in miniature, where 
every province from Bearn to Artois had its representa- 
tives ; and the little pot of colonial life was boiling with the 
rivalries, friendships, hates, fears, and ambitions of the 
metropolis of the kingdom, sharpened and intensified by 
the narrowness of the arena in which they met. 

Lizette was full to-day of the gossip that flew from 
door to door and from gallery to gallery of the quaint old 


202 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


houses, as caught first by the maids. The story of the doings 
at Belmont was volubly retailed to the itching ears of their 
mistresses, and the account of the carriages and horsemen, 
horsewomen, dresses, and corteges of the fashionable people 
going out to honor the fete of Pierre Philibert seemed 
interminable as the list of HomePs heroes. 

‘‘ And who may they all be, Lizette } ” asked Angelique, 
not for information, but to hear her maid talk, for she 
knew well who had been invited, who were going, and who 
had declined to go to Belmont. Nothing happened in 
Quebec which did not reach' Angelique’s ears, and the 
festival at Belmont had been the talk of the city for many 
days. 

O, they are Bourgeoisie for the most part, my lady, 
people who smell of furs, and fish, and turpentine, and 
JLower Town ! You see the gentlemen any day, down in 
the Basse Ville, jingling their money in their pockets, their 
coats dusted with flour, and their knees greasy with oil, 
while their wives and daughters, in feathers and furbelows 
parade through Upper Town, with all the assurance of 
their betters ! 

Lizette was a cunning Abigail, and drew her portrait 
to suit the humor of her mistress, whom she had heard 
ridiculing the festival of the Honiietes Ge7is, as she called it. 

“ But you know who they were, Lizette } That tongue 
of yours can, if it will, repeat every name, dress and equip- 
ment, that has gone out to Belmont to-day.’’ 

“ Yes, my lady. What I did not see myself, I learn- 
ed from Manon Nytouche, Madame Racine’s maid, who 
accompanied her mistress down to the house of Madame 
de Grandmaison, where the ladies all sat in the balcony, 
quizzing the parties as they rode past on their way to Bel- 
mont.” 

Angelique threw herself back languidly in her chair. 

Go on then, I don’t care how you learned their names, 
but tell me who rode past ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, there were all the Brassards of course. The girls 
dressed like Duchesses, quite forgetting the dirty old maga- 
zine, in Sous Le Fort., where their finery comes from ! And 
the Gravels from the Cut de Sac, whose large feet remind 
one of their grandfather the old Coureur du Bois, who ac- 
quired them tramping in the woods.” 

“ That was well said, Lizette ! ” observed Angelique, 


CROSS QUESTIONING, 


203 

‘ I wish the Demoiselles Gravel could hear you ! who else 
were there ? ’’ 

Oh, the Huots of course, whose stiff necks and high 
shoulders came from their grandmother the squaw ! The 
Sieur Huot took her out of the wigwam, with her trous- 
seau on her back, and a strap round her forehead, and 
made a city dame of her ! Marry come up ! the Demoi- 
selles Huot wear furs in another fashion now! Then there 
were the Tourangeaus, who think themselves rich enough 
to marry into the noblesse 1 and Cecile of course, with 
her hair frizzed over her forehead to hide ’’ — Lizette sud- 
denly remembering she was on dangerous ground, stopped 
short. 

‘‘ To hide what.^*’’ ejaculated Angelique, rousing her- 
self almost savagely, for she knew well why her maid 
hesitated. 

‘‘ A mark like a red cross upon her forehead, my 
lady ! ’’ Lizette trembled a little, for she was never sure 
what direction the lightning would strike, when her mis- 
tress was angry. 

“ Ha, Ha ! ’’ laughed Angelique. ‘‘ She did not get that 
cross in baptism. I’ll be bound 1 The world has a long 
tongue, and the tip of it is in your mouth, Lizette I ” con- 
tinued she, leaning back in her chair quietly, to her maid’s 
surprise. Tell me now, what do people say of Cecile ? ” 
They say, my lady, that she would give her little 
finger any day, for a smile from the Chevalier de Reperi- 
tigny I ” Madame Racine says, It is only to see him 
that she has gone to Belmont to-day.” 

‘‘ Lizette, I will strike you if you pull my hair so 1 ” ex- 
claimed Angelique, pushing her maid away with her hand, 
which was as prompt to deal a blow as to lavish gifts upon 
her dependants. 

“ Pardon ! my lady,” replied Lizette, shrewd enough 
to perceive the cause of her mistress’ anger, and also how 
to allay it. “Cecile Tourangeau may look her eyes out 
at the Chevalier de Repentigny, but I know he has no love 
for any woman but one, who shall be nameless.” 

“ No, she shall not be nameless to me, Lizette 1 so tell it 
please,” Angelique fixed her maid with a look she durst 
not disobey. 

“ It was only the other night, my lady, when the Cheva- 
lier de Repentigny, remained so late, that he said on 


204 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


leaving the house, ‘ Heaven has no door like this ! and 
no mansion I would inhabit without Angelique ! ^ I would 
go on my knees from here to Rome, for a man who loved 
me as Le Gardeur does you, my lady ! ’’ exclaimed Lizette, 
with a burst of enthusiasm that charmed her mistress. 

Lizette knew she was saying the most agreeable thing 
in the world to her, a thrill of pain mingled with pleasure, 
and a taste of sweet and bitter, came upon the tongue of 
Angelique. She swallowed the sweet and threw off the 
bitter, as she said with an air of gayety. 

“ When a man goes on his knees for a woman it is all 
over with her ! is it not Lizette ? ’’ 

“ It would be all over with me, my lady,’’ replied the maid 
frankly. ‘‘ But men you know are false so often. A woman 
never has them safe and sure, until they are put to bed 
by the sexton with a coverlet of stone on top of them ! ” 

“ You are getting positively clever, Lizette ! ” exclaimed 
Angelique, clapping her hands. I will give you a new gown 
for that remark of yours ! What said the Chevalier de 
Repentigny further, did you hear ? ” 

“ That was all I heard, my lady, but it is plain as the 
spire of Charlebourg, as they say, that he does not care a 
pin for Cecile Tourangeau, and for her to try to make an 
impression upon him is just as vain, Madame Racine says, 
as to put your finger into the water and look for the hole 
it has made ! ” 

Madame Racine’s similies smack of the water side, 
and she talks like the wife of a stevedore ! ” Angelique, 
while indulging herself in every freedom of speech, was 
merciless in her criticism of coarseness in others. ‘‘ But 
go on with your beads, Lizette, who besides all those ele- 
gant Bourgeois, have gone to Belmont ? ” 

“ O there were the Massots of course ! the young ladies 
in blue and white, in imitation of your last new costume, 
my lady ? ” 

That shows their good taste,” replied Angelique, “ and 
a deference to their betters, not always found in Lower 
Town, where we usually see more airs than graces J Who 
besides the Massots have gone } ” 

Oh, the- whole tribe of the Cureux ! Trust any thing 
going on in Quebec, where they will not thrust their long 
noses ! ” 

Oh ! the Cureux, indeed ! ” replied Angdlique, laughing 


CI^OSS QUESTIONING. 


205 

till she shook, I always laugh when I see their long noses 
come into a parlor.’’ 

‘‘ Yes, my Lady, every one does 1 even servants ! they 
say they got them by smelling stock fish which they send 
to France by the ship load. Madame Cureux is always 
boasting that the Pope himself eats their stock fish in 
Lent.” 

‘‘ Well their noses are their own, and nobody envies 
them the possession ! But all their stock fish cannot cure 
their ugliness ! ” Angelique knew the Cureux were very- 
rich, and it pleased her to find a good offset for that ad- 
vantage. 

“Nor all their money marry the demoiselles Cureux to 
the noblesse ! ” remarked Lizette, with a touch of spite. 
She too did not like the Cureux for some prejudice of the 
servants’ hall — inscrutable here. 

“ There you are wrong, Lizette ! Money will marry any 
one to any body ! It will marry me — enough of it ! ” An- 
geiique twitched her shoulder and gave a short, bitter laugh. 

“ Yes, most people say so, my Lady, and I suppose it 
is true ! But for my part, having no money, I like a bit of 
love to season the family potage ! I would not marry Louis 
Le Page with his five hundred livres in his box, if I would 
not take him barefoot just as God made him.” 

“ Pshaw ! you talk like a fool 1 ” Angelique moved 
restlessly in her chair; as if tormented with a thorn. “ Peo- 
ple of your condition are happy enough with love ; you 
have nothing else to marry for.” 

“No, and for that reason Louis and I will marry,” re- 
plied Lizette, seriously. “ God made men wise, they say, 
and we women teach them to be fools.” 

“ You are clever Lizette and worthy to be my maid,” 
cried Angelique, admiringly, “ but I want to hear the rest 
of your gossip about Belmont. You have only mentioned 
the Bourgeoisie, but I know many people of condition have 
gone out also.” 

“ I thought my L^dy would rather have me mention 
the Bourgeoisie,” replied Lizette, naively. She knew that 
sprinkling a little common earth upon the guests, would 
not displease the humor of her mistress. 

“True, but I have heard enough about them and after 
all, the movements of the Bourgeoisie are of no more im*^ 
portance than the flight of pigeons. The Honnetes gens are 


2o6 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


not all Bourgeoisie — morels the wonder ! go on, Lizette, 
with the noblesse.’’ 

“ Yes, my Lady! Madame de Grandmaison held up both 
hands for an hour, astonished at the equipages rolling on 
one after another to Belmont, to visit a mere merchant, a 
trader, as she called the Bourgeois Philibert.” 

“ Madame de Grandmaison forgets the old rope maker 
of St. Malo, who spun her own family line ! ” replied An- 
gelique, tartly ; she hated the Grandmaisons. The Bour- 
geois Philibert is himself as well born and as proud too as 
the Lord de Coucy.” 

“ And his son, the Colonel, is as proud as his father, 
and can look as cross too when he is displeased,” remarked 
Lizette, veering round readily to the shift of wind in her 
mistress’ humor. 

“ He is the handsomest gallant in the city, but one,” 
remarked Angelique. 

Yes, my Lady,” replied the facile maid. “ The Chev- 
alier de Repentigny thinks him perfection, and he thinks 
Mademoiselle de Repentigny more than perfection ; at 
least that was Madame Racine’s opinion.” 

Madame' Racine’s tongue would be all the better for 
shortening, Lizette, and yours too, if you quote her sayings 
so much.” 

‘‘Yes, my Lady,” replied the ever acquiescent maid, 
“ and every one thought the same Wlien she and Madame 
de Grandmaison joined in a cry of indignation as the Gov- 
ernor rode past, with that strange gentleman from Sweden, 
who puts flowers in a book instead of into his button hole, 
and pins moths and butterflies to a board. They say he 
is a Huguenot and would like to serye Christians in the 
same manner, only most people think he is mad. But he 
is really very nice when you speak to him 1 and the Gov- 
ernor likes him immensely. All the maids of the quartier 
say their mistresses agree on that.” 

“ Well, never mind the strange gentleman I who be- 
sides were there ? ” asked Angelique*. 

“ O loads and loads of the most fashionable people ! 
such as the Chavignys, the Lemoines, the Lanaudieres, Du- 
perons and De Lerys, all sitting up in their carriages and 
looking as if the Colony belonged to them.” 

“ A good deal of it does !” remarked Angelique with n 
touch of Madame de Grandmaison’s irritability. 


CROSS QUESTIONING. 


207 

“ But the D’ Aillebousts and the Vaudreuils’s, they did 
not go ? 

“ Only the Chevalier Rigaud, my Lady, who, they say 
always roasts a Bostonnais when his soldiers are very hungry ! 
but I don’t believe it.” 

Pshaw ! but tell me have the Beauharnois gone with 
the t est ? ” 

“ Yes, my Lady ! Mademoiselle was dressed like an 
angel in white, and such plumes ! even Madame Couillard 
said she looked handsomer than her brother Claude.” 

“ Oh, Hortense ! every one is bursting with praises of 
Hortense ! ” exclaimed Angelique with decided pique, 
fanning herself impatiently. “ It is because she makes her- 
self so friendly ; forward I call it, and she thinks herself so 
witty ! or, at least causes the gentleman to think so. The heir 
of Belmont would hardly pay her for opening her black eyes 
so wide ! ” 

Angelique was bitter and unjust. She was, in truth, 
jealous of the beauty and grace of Hortense de Beauharnois, 
who approached too near her own absolute kingdom, not 
to be looked upon otherwise than as a dangerous rival. 

Is your list ended ? ” Angelique got very impatient. 
“ Of course, all the Tillys, De Repentignys, St. Lucs, and 
their tribes from North to South, would not be absent on 
any such occasion as a gathering of the Honnetes gens in 
honor of the Philiberts ! ” 

No my Lady, and they are all there, as Madame de 
Grandmaison remarked. The city has gone mad over 
Belmont, and every body has gone ! ” Lizette began count- 
ing on her fingers, ‘‘ besides those I named there were the 
De Beaujeus, the Contrecoeurs, the De Villiers the — ” 

‘‘ For God’s sake, stop ! ” burst out Angelique or go 
back to the Bourgeoisie, the rabble and the slops of Lower 
town ! ” 

This was a coarse speech for Angelique, but she liked 
sometimes to leap over the bars of politeness, and riddle 
society of its cinders, she said. Her supernal beauty was 
earthmade, and she could on occasion talk coarsely, talk 
argot or even smoke while comparing the points of men 
and horses in the penetralia of her boudoir, in the free and 
easy companionship of friends of her own sex. 

Lizette took the hint and gave a satirical description of a 
rich old merchant and his family, the Sieur Keratry, an 


2o8 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


honest Bas Breton. They say,’’ continued Lizette “ that 
the Sieur Keratry first learned the use of a pocket hand- 
kerchief after his arrival in an Emigrant ship, and forgets 
to use it to this day ! ” 

Why that is true ! ” laughed Ang(^lique, restored to 
good humor, by the mention of the old trader of the Sault 
au Matelot. 

‘‘ The Bas Bretons never use anything but their sleeves 
and fingers ! and you always recognize the honest folk of 
Finis 2'erre by that unmistakable trait of Breton polish ! 
the Sieur Keratry is true to his province and can never 
forget the primitive fashion, I hope he will practise it well at 
Belmont! Bah! But I wont hear any more Lizette, I dont care 
who has gone ! I know one who won’t stay ! Mark you ! ” con- 
tinued she. ‘‘When the Chevalier de Repentigny calls 
this evening show him up at once 1 I am resolved he shall 
not remain at Belmont whoever else does.” She held up 
a warning finger to her maid, “ Remember now you may go 
Lizette, I want to be alone.” 

“ Yes, my Lady ! ” Lizette would fain have continued 
her gossip, but she dared not. There was a flash now and 
then in Angelique’s eyes that boded Are not far off. Lizette 
withdrew, somewdiat perplexed about her mistress’s real 
thoughts of persons and things, and remarked to her con- 
fidante the housekeeper, that her lady was “ in a tantrum 
over something or other and some body would surely suffer 
before to-morrow ! ” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

BELMONT. 

A SHORT drive from the gate of St. John, stood the old 
mansion of Belmont, the country seat of the Bourgeois 
Philibert. A stately park, the remains of the primeval 
forest of oak, maple, and pine ; trees of gigantic growth 
and ample shade, surrounded the high roofed, many gabled 
house that stood on the heights of St. Foye overlooking 
the broad valley of the St. Charles. The bright river 
wound like a silver serpent through the flat meadows in 


BELMONT. 


209 


the bottom of the valley. While the opposite slopes of al- 
ternate field and forest stretched away to the distant range 
of the Laurentian hills whose pale blue summits mingled 
with the blue sky at mid-day, or wrapped in mist at morn 
and eve were hardly distinguishable from the clouds be- 
hind them. 

The' bright slender spire of a village church peered up 
shyly from the distant woods on the mountain side ; while, 
here and there the white walls of a farm hous^ stood out 
amid green meadows, or the smoke alone of a chimney 
rose up from orchards of apple and pear, showing where a 
thrifty habitant had cast his lot, under the protection of a 
feudal manor house that was conspicuous upon more than 
one commanding spot in the wide landscape. 

The day was charming, fresh and breezy. Summer 
showers had washed clean the face of nature, and warm 
sunshine of almost tropical heat, which prevails in New 
France for a brief period, stirred all the life in animate 
and inanimate creation. The leaves and grass glowed in 
vivid green, and on every side flowers of every hue 
breathing out odors seemed alive with pure delight of 
blooming. 

The park of Belmont sweeping round to the woods of 
Sillery contained a little world of wild flowers and ferns, 
hidden away in its sylvan recesses safe from the plough- 
share, as its forest trees were safe from the woodman. 
Many rare and exquisite forms of floral beauty repaid the 
protection of the Manor of Belmont. In glades half lit 
by struggling sunbeams, the ferns stood knee deep, wav- 
ing their lace like tracery, beautiful and delicate as the 
bridal veil of the Queen of Fairyland. Little dells thick 
with shrubbery, were glowing with the rosy cups of the 
Linnaea Borealis, and narrow leaved Kalmia, first so named 
this day by the Count de la Galissoniere in honor of his 
friend Herr Kalm. The winding and in some places steep 
hill-side paths were bordered with trailing orchises, 
white and red and purple, ladies hair and silvery bells for 
garlands in fairy dances by moonlight. Trillia whirling 
their triple glories ; flowers born in the purple, like chil- 
dren of an Emperor, — priceless treasures of Flora in the 
old world, but here growing wild, the free gifts of boun- 
teous nature. The turf of the park was thick, soft, and 
green as an emerald. Huge patriarchal trees, giants of 

14 


210 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


the olden time stood round in solitary dignity, shading the 
broad drives, or were grouped in clusters deep and solemn 
as fragments of the primeval forest of which they had 
once formed a part. 

The gardens and lawns of Belmont were stirring with 
gay company to-day in honor of the Fete of Pierre Phili- 
bert, upon his return home from the campaign in Acadia. 
Troops of ladies in costumes and toilettes of the latest 
Parisian fashion gladdened the eye with pictures of grace 
and beauty, which Paris itself could not have surpassed. 
Gentlemen in full dress, in an age when dress was an es- 
sential part of a gentleman’s distinction, accompanied the 
ladies, with the gallantry, vivacity and politeness belong- 
ing to France, and to France alone 

Communication with the mother country was pre- 
carious and uncertain by reason of the war, and the block- 
ade of the Gulf by the English cruisers. Hence, the good 
fortune and daring of the gallant Captain Mariniere in 
running his frigate, the Fleur de Lys, through the fleet of 
the enemy, enabling him among other things to replenish 
the wardrobes of the ladies of Quebec, with latest Parisian 
fashions, made him immensely popular on this gala day. 
The kindness and affability of the ladies extended without 
diminution of graciousness to the little midshipmen even 
whom the Captain conditioned to take with him wherever 
he and his officers were invited. Captain Mariniere was 
happy to see the lads enjoy a few cakes on shore after the 
hard biscuit they had so long nibbled on shipboard. As 
for himself there was no end to the gracious smiles and 
thanks he received from the fair ladies assembled at Bel- 
mont. 

At the great door of the Manor House welcoming his 
guests as they arrived, stood the Bourgeois Philibert, 
dressed as a gentleman of the period in attire rich but not 
ostentatious. His suit of dark velvet harmonized well 
with his noble manner and bearing. But no one for a mo- 
ment could overlook the man in contemplating his dress. 
The keen discriminating eye of woman overlooking neither 
dress nor man, found both worthy of warmest commenda- 
tion, and many remarks passed between the ladies on that 
day, that a handsomer man and more ripe and perfect 
gentleman than the Bourgeois Philibert, had never been 
seen in New France. 


BELMONT, 


2H 


His grizzled hair grew thickly all over his head, the sign 
of a tenacious constitution. It was powdered and tied be- 
hind with a broad ribbon, for he hated periiques. His 
strong shapely figure was handsomely conspicuous as he 
stood chapeau in hand, greeting his guests as they approach- 
ed. His eyes beamed with pleasure and hospitality, and his 
usually grave, thoughtful lips, were wreathed in smiles, the 
sweeter because not habitually seen upon them. 

The Bourgeois had this in common with all complete 
and earnest characters, that the people believed in him, 
because they saw that he believed in himself. His friends 
loved and trusted him to the uttermost, his enemies hated 
and feared him in equal measure \ but no one great or 
small, could ignore him and not feel his presence as a 
solid piece of manhood. 

It is not intellect, nor activity, nor wealth that obtains 
most power over men ; but force of character, self-control, 
a quiet compressed will, and patient resolve ; these qual- 
ities make one man the natural ruler over others by a 
title they never dispute. 

The party of the Horinetes gens, the honest folks ’’ as 
they were derisively called by their opponents, regarded 
the Bourgeois Philibert as their natural leader. His force 
of character made men willingly stand in his shadow. His 
clear intellect, never at fault, had extended his power and 
influence by means of his vast mercantile operations over 
half the continent. His position as the foremost merchant 
of New France brought him in the front of the people’s 
battle with the Grand Company and in opposition to the 
financial policy of the Intendant and the mercantile as- 
sumption of the Friponne 

But the personal hostility between the Intendant and 
the Bourgeois had its root and origin in France, before 
either of them crossed the ocean to the hither shore of the 
Atlantic. The Bourgeois had been made very sensible of 
a fact vitally affecting him, that the decrees of the Intend- 
ant ostensibly for the regulation of trade in New France 
had been sharply pointed against himself. “ They draw 
blood ! ” — Bigot had boasted to his familiars as he rubbed 
his hands together with intense satisfaction one day, when 
he learned that Philibert’s large trading post in Mackinaw, 
had been closed in consequence of the Indians having been 
commanded by royal authority, exercised by the Intend- 


112 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


ant, to trade only at the Comptoirs of the Grand Comp- 
any. They draw blood ! repeated he, ‘‘ and will draw 
the life yet out of the Golden Dog/’ It was plain, the 
ancient grudge of the courtly parasite had not lost a tooth 
during all those years. 

The Bourgeois was not a man to talk of his private 
griefs, or seek sympathy, or even ask counsel or help. 
He knew the world was engrossed with its own cares. 
The world cared not to look under the surface of things 
for sake of others, but only for its own sake, its own inter- 
ests, its own pleasures. 

To-day, however, cares, griefs, and resentments, were cast 
aside, and the Bourgeois was all joy at the return of his 
only son, and proud of Pierre’s achievements, and still 
more of the honors spontaneously paid him. , He stood at 
the door, welcoming arrival after arrival, the happiest man 
of all the joyous company who honored Belmont that 
day. 

A carriage, with outriders, brought the . Count de la 
Galissoniere and his friend Herr Kahn, and Dr. Gauthier, 
the last a rich old bachelor, handsome and generous, the 
physician and savant, par excelleiice^ of Quebec. After a 
most cordial reception by the Bourgeois, the Governor 
walked among the guests, who had crowded up to greet 
him, with the respect due to the King’s representative, as 
well as to show their personal regard ; for the Count’s 
popularity was unbounded in the colony except among the 
partizans of the Grand Company, 

Herr Kalm was presently enticed away by a bevy of 
young ladies, Hortense Beauharnois leading them, to get 
the learned Professor’s opinion on some rare specimens of 
botany growing in the park. Nothing loath — for he was 
good natured as he was clever, and a great enthusiast 
withal in the study of plants — he allowed the merry, talk- 
ative girls to lead him where they would. He delighted 
them in turn by his agreeable, instructive conversation, 
which was rendered still more piquant by the odd medley 
of French, Latin and Swedish in which it was expressed. 

The Sieur Gauthier was greeted on every side with 
marks of esteem and even affection. With the ladies he 
was an especial favorite. His sympathetic manner and 
ready wit won their admiration and confidence. As the 
first physician of the city. Dr. Gauthier was to their bodies 


BELMONT. 


213 


what their confessor was to their souls, indispensable to 
their health and comfort. The good doctor had his 
specialties also, as every man of genius fails not to have. 
He was a good astronomer, and it was known that the 
science of astrology was not out of the category of his 
studies. Atigur, medicus., magus., oumia novit! 

The middle of the eighteenth century had not quite 
convinced itself, as the close of the nineteenth has 
done, that what is what, and that only. Upon the 
good doctor’s house, overlooking the Cote aux Chiens, 
was a small observatory. It’s long, projecting telescope 
was to the hahitans suggestive of magical powers. They 
would not be persuaded but that the good doctor cured 
diseases by the ‘‘secret,” rather than by legitimate medical 
science, and was more beholden to the stars for his suc- 
cess in curing than to the art of medicine. But that be- 
lief secured his popularity all the more. By temperament 
he belonged to the merry school of the medecins tant 
mieux., whom La Fontaine immortalizes in his inimitable 
fable. The good doctor laughed at the world, and was 
not vexed if the world laughed at him. In one tender 
spot only he was very sensitive, however, and the quick- 
witted ladies never ceased probing it with pins and 
needles — his want of a wife, and, still more perhaps, of an 
heir to hand his name and fortune down to posterity. 

The ladies knew he was a useful man, and they zeal- 
ously strove to double his usefulness, but so far the meas- 
ures taken by them had been inadequate to the accomplish- 
ment of their object. To-day, the doctor’s feathers had 
been ruffled by a controversy with the learned Swede, who 
maintained with irritating obstinacy the fashionable theory 
of stay-at-home philosophers in the old world that the 
European race degenerates on the soil of the new. 

The doctor, meeting Herr Kahn on his walk in the 
garden of Belmont, again rushed into the defence of the 
children of the soil, and roundly swore by the Three 
Graces, by Lenis Lucina, and all the powers of dittany, 
(he was always classical when excited,) that the progeny 
of New France was an improvement on the old stock. 
Like* the . wines of Bordeaux, it acquired fresh spirit, 
strength and bouquet by its transfer across the Atlantic. 

Forgetful of the presence of the ladies, who listened 
with open eyes and ears to his vow, the doctor declared he 


214 


THE CHIEjV H OR. 


would marry, and demonstrate, to the utter refutation of 
such errors, that the noble race of Gauls and Franks does 
not deteriorate in the New World, but its progeny 
strengthens as it lengthens, and gathers as it grows ; and 
that another lustrum should not pass over his head before 
he would convince Herr Kalm himself that European 
philosophy was futile in face of Canadian practice. 

To be sure, few of the ladies knew precisely what a 
lustrum was, but they guessed the good doctor intended 
to take a wife very soon, and the nev/s flew in as many 
shapes — each a complete story of itself — as there were 
pretty mouths to tell it all over the grounds. 

“ I will demonstrate,” exclaimed the doctor, seconding 
his words by solid thumps of his cane upon the ground, 
“ I will demonstrate that in New France a man of sixty 
is as hearty and as marriageable as a European of thirty. I 
will do it. I will marry!” 

A laugh from the gentlemen, and many conscious 
blushes from the ladies, greeted the doctor’s vow ; but 
further discussion of the nice point was postponed by an 
influx of fresh arrivals who poured into the park. 

The Chevalier La Come, with his pretty daughter, 
Agathe La Come St. Luc, the Lady de Tilly and Amelie 
de Repentigny, with the brothers De Villiers. The broth- 
ers had overtaken the Chevalier La Come upon the road, 
but the custom of the highway in New France forbade 
anyone passing another without politely asking permission 
to do so. 

‘‘ Yes, Toulon,” replied the Chevalier; ‘‘ride on.” He 
winked pleasantly at his daughter as he said this. “ There 
is, I suppose, nothing left for an old fellow wh6 dates 
from the sixteen hundreds but to take the side of the 
road and let you pass. I should have liked, however, to 
stir up the fire in my gallant little Norman ponies against 
your big New England horses. Where did you get them 
Can they run 

“ We got them in the sack of Saratoga,” replied Cou- 
lon, “ and they ran well that day, but we overtook them. 
Would Madamoiselle La Come care if we try them now } ” 

Scarcely a girl in Quebec would have declined the ex- 
citement of a race on the high-road of St. Foye, and 
Agathe would fain have driven herself in the race, but, 
being in full dress to-day, she thought of her wardrobe and 


BELMONT. 


215 


the company. She checked the ardor of her father, 
and entered the park demurely, as one of the gravest of 
the guests. 

‘‘ Happy youths ! Noble lads ! Agathe,” exclaimed the 
Chevalier, admiringly, as the brothers rode rapidly past 
them. “New France will be proud of them some day!” 

The rest of the company now began to arrive in quick 
succession. The lawn was crowded with guests. “Ten 
thousand thanks for coming 1 ” exclaimed Pierre Philibert, 
as he assisted Amelie de Repentigny and the Lady de Tilly 
to alight from their carriage. 

“ We could not choose but come to day, Pierre,” replied 
Amelie, feeling without displeasure the momentary linger- 
ing of his hand as it touched hers. “ Nothing short of an 
earthquake would have kept aunt at home,” added she, 
darting a merry glance of sympathy with her aunt’s sup- 
posed feelings. 

“ And you, Amelie ? ” Pierre looked into those dark 
eyes which shyly turned aside from his gaze. 

“ I was an obedient niece, and accompanied her. It is 
so easy to persuade people to go where they wish to go.” 
She withdrew her hand gently, and took his arm as he 
conducted the ladies into the house. She felt a* flush on 
her cheek, but it did not prevent her saying in her frank 
kindly way, “ I was glad to come to day, Pierre, to witness 
this gathering of the best and noblest in the land to honor 
your fete. Aunt de Tilly has always predicted greatness 
for you.” 

“ And you, Amelie, doubted, knowing me a shade better 
than your aunt ? ” 

“No, I believed her! so true a prophet as aunt surely 
deserved one firm believer ! ” 

Pierre felt the electric thrill run through him which a 
man feels at the moment he discovers a woman believes in 
him. “Your presence here to-day, Amelie, you cannot 
think how sweet it is, ” said he. 

Her hand trembled upon his arm. She thought noth - 
ing could be sweeter than such words from Pierre Phil- 
ibert. With, a charming indirectness, however, which did 
not escape him, she replied, “ Le Gardeur is very proud 
of you to day, Pierre.” 

He laid his fingers upon her hand. It was a delicate 
little hand, but with the strength of an angel’s it had 


2i6 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


moulded his destiny and led him to the honorable position 
he had attained. He was profoundly conscious at this 
moment of what . he owed to this girl’s silent influence. 
He contented himself, however, with saying “ I will so 
strive that one day, Amdlie de Repentigny shall not shame 
to say, she too, is proud of me.” 

She did not reply for a moment. A tremor agitated 
her low sweet voice. “ I am proud of you now, Pierre, 
more proud than words can tell to see you so honored, 
and proudest to think you deserve it all.” 

It touched him almost to tears. “Thanks, Amelie, 
when you are proud of me I shall begin to feel pride of 
myself. Your opinion is the one thing in life I have most 
cared for, your approbation is my best reward.” 

Her eyes were eloquent with unspoken words, but she 
thought, “ If that was all ! ” Pierre Philibert had long 
received the silent reward of her good opinion and appro- 
bation. 

The Bourgeois at this moment came up to salute 
Amelie and the Lady de Tilly. 

“ The Bourgeois Philibert has the most perfect man- 
ner of any gentleman in New France,” was the remark of 
the Lady de Tilly to Amelie, as he left them again, to 
receive other guests. “ They say he can be rough and 
imperious sometimes to those he dislikes, but to his friends 
and strangers, and especially to ladies, no breath of spring 
can be more gentle and balmy.” Amelie assented with a 
mental reservation in the depths of her dark eyes, and in 
the dimple that flashed upon her cheek, as she suppressed 
the utterance of a pleasant fancy in reply to her aunt. 

Pierre conducted the ladies to the great drawing-room 
which was already filled with company who overwhelmed 
Amelie and her aunt with the vivacity of their greeting. 

The conversation was light, but it sparkled with gayety. 
There was a ready interchange of the current coin of 
society. 

The philosophers who essayed the extraction of sun- 
beams out of cucumbers, would have found their experi- 
ment a success, in the ease with which the gay society of 
New France extracted social sunbeams from topics out of 
which graver people would have drawn only the essence of 
dulness and stupidity. 

This cheerful temperament of the old Gallic colonists, 


BELMONT, 


217 


has descended unimpaired to their posterity. The English 
conquest which changed so many things, could not dull the 
native gayety of the French Canadians, and the grave Eng- 
lish character is all the better for the dash of French 
vivacity and grace which leavens the new nationality that 
is growing up in Canada ; neither purely French nor 
English but a happy mixture of the best elements of both. 

In a fine shady grove, at a short distance from the 
house, a row of tables was set for the entertainment of 
several hundreds of the hardy dependents of the Bourgeois, 
for while feasting the rich the Bourgeois would not forget 
his poorer friends, and perhaps his most exquisite satisfac- 
tion was in the unrestrained -enjoyment of his hospitality 
by the crowd of happy hungry fellows and their families, 
who under the direction of his chief Factor, filled the 
tables from end to end, and made the park resound with 
songs and merriment. Fellows of infinite gayety, with 
appetites of Gargantuas, and a capacity for good liquors, 
that reminded one of the tubs of the Danaides. The 
tables groaned beneath mountains of good things, and in 
the centre of each, like Mount Blanc rising from the lower 
Alps, stood a magnificent Easter pie, the confection of 
which was a masterpiece of the skill of Maitre Guillot 
Gobet, the head cook of the Bourgeois, who was rather 
put out, however, when Dame Rochelle decided to bestow 
all the Easter pies upon the hungry voyageurs, woodmen, 
and workmen, and banished them from the menu of the 
more patrician tables set for the guests of the mansion. 

‘‘ Yet after all,” exclaimed Master Guillot, as he thrust 
his head out of the kitchen door to listen to the song the 
gay fellows were singing with all their lungs, in honor of 
his Easter pie. “ After all ; the fine gentlemen and ladies 
would not have paid my noble pies such honor as that ! 
and what is more the pies would not have been eaten up 
to the last crumb ! ” Master Guillot’s face beamed like a 
harvest moon, as he chimed in with the well known ditty 
in praise of the great pie of Rouen. 


“ C’est dans la ville de Rouen, 

Ils ont fait un pate si grand, 

Ils ont fait un pate si grand, 

Qu’ils ont trouve un homme dedans ! ” 


2i8 


THE CHIE/V H OR. 


Master Guillot would fain have, been nearer to share in 
the shouting and clapping of hands which followed the 
saying of grace by the good Cure of St. Foye, and to see 
how vigorously knives were handled, and how chins 
wagged in the delightful task of levelling down mountains 
of meat, while Gascon wine and Norman cider flowed from 
ever replenished flagons. 

The Bourgeois and his son, with many of his chief 
guests, honored for a time the merry feast out of doors, 
and were almost inundated by the flowing cups drank to 
the health and happiness of the Bourgeois and of Pierre 
Philibert. 

Master Guillot Gobet returned to his kitchen where he 
stirred up his cooks and scullions on all sides to make up 
for the loss of his Easter pies on the grand tables in the 
Hall. He capered among them like a marionette, direct- 
ing here, scolding there, laughing, joking, or with uplifted 
hands and stamping feet despairing of his underlings 
cooking a dinner fit for the fete of Pierre Philibert. 

Master Guillot was a little, fat, red-nosed fellow, with 
twinkling black eyes, and a mouth irascible as that of a 
cake-baker of Lerna. His heart was of the right paste, 
however, and full as a butter-boat of the sweet sauce of 
good-nature, which he was ready to pour over the heads of 
all his fellows who quietly submitted to his dictation. But 
woe to man or maid-servant who delayed or disputed his 
royal orders ! An Indian typhoon instantly blew. At 
such a time, even Dame Rochelle would gather her petti- 
coats round her, an-d hurry out of the storm, which always 
subsided quickly in proportion to the violence of its rage. 

Master Guillot knew what he was about, however. 
‘‘ He did not use,’’ he said, ‘To wipe his nose with a her- 
ring ! and on that day he was going to cook a dinner fit 
for the Pope, after Lent, or even for the Reverend Fathei 
De Berey himself, who was the truest gourmet and the best 
trencherman in New France.” 

Master Guillot honored his master, but in his secret 
soul he did not think his taste quite worthy of his cook ! 
But he worshipped Father De Berey, and gloried in the 
infallible judgment and correct taste of cookery possessed 
by the jolly Recollet. The single approbation of Father 
De Berey was worth more than the praise of a world full 
of ordinary eating mortals, who smacked their lips and 


BELMONT. 


219 


said things were good, but who knew no more than one of 
the Cent Suisses why things were good, or could appreciate 
the talents of an artiste of the cordon bleu. 

Master Guillot’s Easter Pie had been a splendid suc- 
cess. ‘‘ It was worthy,” he said, “ to be placed as a crown 
on top of the new Cathedral of St. Marie, and receive the 
consecration of the Bishop.” 

Lest the composition of it should be forgotten. Master 
Guillot had, with the solemnity of a deacon intoning the 
Litany, ravished the ear of Jules Painchaud, his future son- 
in-law, as he taught him the secrets of its confection. 

With his white cap set rakishly on one side of his head; 
and arms akimbo, Master Guillot gave Jules the famous 
recipe : — 

‘‘ Inside of circular walls of pastry, an inch thick, and 
so rich as easily to be pulled down, and roomy enough 
within for the Court of King Pepin, lay first a thick stratum 
of mince-meat, of two savory hams of Westphalia, and if 
you cannot get them, of two hams of our habitansl^ 

‘‘Of our habita7is V' ejaculated Jules, with an air of 
consternation. 

“ Precisely ! don’t interrupt me ! ” Master Guillot 
grew red about the gills in an instant. Jules was silenced. 
“ I have said it ! ” cried he ;” two hams of our habitans 
what have you to say against it. Stock Fish, eh ? ” 

“ Oh nothing, sir,” replied Jules, with humility, “ only I 
thought — ” Poor Jules would have consented to eat his 
thought, rather than fall out with the father of his Suzette. 

“You thought!” Master Guillot’s face was a study 
for Hogarth, who alone could have painted the alto tone 
of voice as it proceeded from his round O of a mouth. 
“ Suzette shall remain upon my hands an old maid for the 
term of her natural life, if you dispute the confection of 
Easter Pie ! ” 

“ Now listen, Jules,” continued he, at once modified by 
the contrite submissive air of his future son-in-law. “ Upon 
the foundation of the mince-meat of two hams of West- 
phalia, or, if you cannot get them, of two hams of our 
habitans ; place scientifically the nicely cut pieces of a fat 
turkey, leaving his head to stick out of the upper crust, in 
evidence that Master Dindon lies buried there 1 Add two 
fat capons, two plump partridges, two pigeons, and the back 
and thigliiS of a brace of juicy hares. Fill up the whole 


220 


THE CIIIEND'OR. 


with beaten eggs and the rich contents will resemble, as a 
poet might say, ‘ fossils of the rock in golden yolks em- 
bedded and enjellied ! ’ Season as you would a Saint ! 
Cover with a slab of pastry. Bake it as you would cook 
an angel, and not singe a feather. Then let it cool, and 
eat it ! And then, Jules, as the Reverend Father De Ber- 
ey always says after grace over an Easter Pie, ‘ Dominus 
Vo biscum P 


CHAPTER XXII. 

SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 

The old hall of Belmont had been decorated for many 
a feast since the times of its founder, the Intendant Talon ; 
but it had never contained a nobler company of fair women 
and brave men the pick and choice of their race than 
to-day met round the hospitable and splendid table of the 
Bourgeois Philibert, in honor of the / etc of his* gallant son. 

Dinner was duly and decorously despatched. The 
social fashions of New France was not for the ladies to 
withdraw when the wine followed the feast, but to remain 
seated with the gentlemen, purifying the conversation, and 
by their presence restraining the coarseness, which was the 
almost universal vice of the age. 

A troop of nimble servitors carried off the carved 
dishes and fragments of the splendid patisseries of Master 
Guillot, in such a state of demolition as satisfied the crit- 
ical eye of the chief cook that the efforts of his genius had 
been very successful. He inspected the dishes through 
his spectacles. Fie knew by what was left the ability of 
the guests to discriminate what they had eaten, and do 
justice to his skill ! He considered himself a sort of per- 
vading divinity, whose culinary ideas passing with his 
cookery into the bodies of the guests, enabled them, on re- 
tiring from the feast, to carry away as part of themselves 
some of the fine essence of Master Gobet himself. 

At the head of his table, peeling oranges and slicing 
pineapples for the ladies in his vicinity sat the Bourgeois 
himself, laughing, jesting and' telling anecdotes with a 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 


221 


geniality that was contagious. The gods are merry some- 
times, says Homer, and their laughter shakes Olympus ! ’’ 
was the classical remark of Father De Berey, at the other 
end of the table. Jupiter did not laugh with less loss of 
dignity than the Bourgeois. 

The sun was setting in a sea of splendor, visible through 
an oriel window in the great hall. His slanting golden 
rays caught the crisp-grizzled locks of the master of the 
feast, and preternaturally illumined his noble face, bring- 
ing out every feature and line of it with marvellous effects, 
as if to make a picture which men could remember in after 
years ; and few of the guests did not remember to the end 
of their lives the majestic and happy countenance of the 
Bourgeois on this memorable day. 

At his right hand sat Amelie de Repentigny and the 
Count De La Gallisoniere. The Governor, charmed with 
the beauty and agreeableness of the young Chatelaine, had 
led her into dinner, and devoted himself to her and the 
Lady De Tilly with the perfection of gallantry of a gentle- 
man of the politest court in Europe. On his left sat 
the radiant dark-eyed Hortense de Beauharnois. With 
a gay assumption of independence, Hortense had 
taken the arm of La Come St. Luc, and declared she 
would eat no dinner unless he would be her cavalier, and 
sit beside her ! The gallant old soldier surrendered at dis- 
cretion. “ He laughingly consented to be her captive,’’ he 
said, “ for he had no power and no desire but to obey.” 
Hortense was proud of her conquest. She seated herself 
by his side with an air of triumph and mock gravity, tap- 
ping him with her fan whenever she detected his eye rov- 
ing round the table, compassionating, she affirmed, her 
rivals, who had failed where she had won in securing the 
youngest, the handsomest and most gallant of all the gen- 
tlemen at Belmont ! 

“ Not so fast, Hortense ! ” exclaimed the gay Cheval- 
ier ; “ you have captured me by mistake ! The tall Swede. 
He is your man ! The other ladies all know that, and are 
anxious to get me out of your toils, so that you may be 
free to ensnare the Philosopher ! ” 

“ But you don’t wish to get away from me ? I am your 
garland, Chevalier, and you shall wear me to-day. As for 
the tall Swede, he has no idea of a fair flower of our sex, 
except to wear it at his button-hole, this way ! ” added she 


222 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


pulling a rose out of a vase and archly adorning the Chev- 
alier’s vest with it. 

All pretence and jealousy, Mademoiselle. The tall 
Swede knows how to take down your pride, and bring you 
to a proper sense of your false conceit of the beauty and 
wit of the ladies of New France.” 

Hortense gave two or three tosses of defiance to ex- 
press her emphatic dissent from his opinions. 

“ I wish Herr Kalm would lend me his philosophic 
scales to weigh your sex like lambs in market,” contin- 
ued La Come St. Luc ; “ but I fear I am too old, Hor- 
tense, to measure women except by the fathom, which is 
the measure of a man.” 

‘‘And the measure of a man is the measure of an 
angel, too! Scriptumest ! Chevalier.” replied she. Hortense 
had ten merry meanings in her eye, and looked as if bid- 
ding him select which he chose. “ The learned Swede’s 
philosophy is lost upon me,” continued she. “ He can 
neither weigh by sample nor measure by fathom the girls 
of New France I ” She tapped him on the arm. “ Listen 
to me, Chevalier,” said she ; “ you are neglecting me al- 
ready for sake of Cecile Tourangeau I ” La Come was 
exchanging some gay badinage with a graceful, pretty 
young lady, on the other side of the table, whose snowy 
forehead, if you examined it closely, was marked with a 
red scar, in figure of a cross, which although powdered 
and partially concealed by a frieze of her thick blonde hair, 
was sufficiently distinct to those who looked for it ; and 
many did so, as they whispered to each other the story of 
how she got it. 

Le Gardeur de Repentigny sat by Cecile, talking in a 
very sociable manner, which was afso commented on. His 
conversation seemed to be very attractive to the young lady, 
who was visibly delighted with the attentions of her hand- 
some gallant. 

At this moment a burst of instruments from the musi- 
cians who occupied a gallery at the end of the hall, an- 
nounced a vocal response to the toast of the King’s health, 
proposed by the Bourgeois. “ Prepare yourself for the 
chorus, Chevalier,” exclaimed Hortense. “ Father de 
Berey is going to lead the royal anthem 1 ” 

“ Vive le Roi I'"' replied La Come. “No finer voice 
ever sang Mass, nor chanted ‘ God Save the King ! ’ I 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 


223 


like to hear the royal anthem from the lips of a churchman, 
rolling it out, ore rotunda^ like one of the Psalms of David. 
Our first duty is to love God — our next to honor the King ! 
and New France will never fail in either ! Loyalty was 
ingrained in every fibre of La Come St. Luc. 

“Never, Chevalier. Law and Gospel rule together, or 
fall together ! But we must rise,’’ replied Hortense spring- 
ing up. 

The whole company rose simultaneously, llie rich, 
mellow voice of the Rev. Father de Berey, round and full 
as the organ of St. Marie, commenced the royal anthem, 
composed by Lulli in honor of Louis Quatorze, upon an 
occasion of his visit to the famous convent of St. Cyr, in 
company with Madame de Maintenon. 

The song composed by Madame Brinon was afterwards 
translated into English, and words and music became, by a 
singular transposition, the national hymn of the English 
nation. 

‘ God Save the King ! ’ is no longer heard in France. 
It was buried with tbe 'people’s loyalty, fathoms deep under 
the ruins of the monarchy. But it flourishes still with 
pristine vigor in New France, that olive branch grafted on 
the stately tree of the British Empire. The broad chest 
and flexile lips of Father de Berey rang out the grand old 
song in tones that filled the stately old hall. 

Grand Dieu ! Sauvez le Roi ! 

Grand Dieu ! Sauvez le Roi ! 

Sauvez le Roi ! 

Que tou jours glorieux. 

Louis Victorieux, 

Voye ses ennemis 

Toujours soumisl 

The company all joined in the chorus, the gentlemen 
raising their cups, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, 
and male and female blending in a storm of applause that 
made the old walls ring with joy. Songs and speeches 
followed in quick succession, cutting as with a golden 
blade the hours of the dessert into quinzaines of varied 
pleasures. 

The custom of the times had reduced speech making 
after dinner to a minimum. The ladies, as Father de Be- 
rey wittily remarked, preferred private confession to public 


224 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


preaching ; and long speeches without inlets for reply 
were the eighth mortal sin which no lady would forgive. 

The Bourgeois, however, felt it incumbent upon him- 
self to express his deep thanks for the honor done his 
house on this auspicious occasion. And he remarked that 
‘‘ the doors of Belmont, so long closed by reason of the 
absence of Pierre, would hereafter be ever open to welcome 
all his friends. He had that day made a gift of Belmont, 
with all its belongings, to Pierre, and “ he hoped — ” (the 
Bourgeois smiled as he said this, but he would not look in 
a quarter where his words struck home,) ‘‘ He hoped that 
some one of Quebec’s fair daughters would assist Pierre 
in the 7ne?iage of his home, and enable him to do honor 
to his housekeeping.” 

Immense was the applause that followed the short, 
pithy speech of the Bourgeois. The ladies blushed and 
praised, the gentlemen cheered, and enjoyed in anticipa- 
tion the renewal of the old hospitalities of Belmont. 

‘‘ The skies are raining plum cakes ! ” exclaimed the 
Chevalier La Come to his lively companion. ' “ Joy’s gold- 
en drops are only distilled in the Alembic of woman’s 
heart ! What think you, Hortense ? which of Quebec’s fair 
daughters will be willing to share Belmont with Pierre 

‘‘ Oh, any of them would ? ” replied she. Buf why did 
the Bourgeois restrict his choice to the ladies of Quebec, 
when he knew I came from the Three Rivers ? ” 

‘‘O, he was afraid of you, Hortense! You would 
make Belmont too good for this world I What say you. 
Father de Berey.^ Do you ever walk on the cape? 

The friar, in a merry mood, had been edging close to 
Hortense. I love, of all things, to air my gray gown on 
the cape of a breezy afternoon,” replied the jovial Recol- 
let, ‘‘ when the fashionables are all out, and every lady is 
putting her best foot foremost. It is then I feel sure that 
Horace is the next best thing to the Homilies : 

Teretesque suras laudo, et integer ego 1 

The Chevalier La Come pinched the shrugging should- 
er of Hortense as he remarked : “ Don’t confess to Father 
de Berey that you promenade on the cape ! But I hope 
Pierre Philibert will soon make his choice ! We are im- 
patient to visit him and give old Provencal the butler a run 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 


225 

every day through those dark crypts of his, where lie 
entombed the choicest vintages of sunny France/’ 

The Chevalier said this waggishly, for the benefit of 
old Provengal, who stood behind his chair looking half 
alarmed at the threatened raid upon his well-filled cellars. 

“ But if Pierre should not commit matrimony,” replied 
Hortense, what will become of him ? and especially what 
will become of us ? ” 

•• We will drink his wine all the same, good fellow that 
he is ! But Pierre had as lief commit suicide as not com- 
mit matrimony ; and who would not? Look here, Pierre 
Philibert,” continued the old soldier, addressing him with 
good-humored freedom, “ Matrimony is clearly your duty, 
Pierre, but I need not tell you so. It is written on your 
face plain as the way between Peronne and St. Quintin ! 
A good honest way as ever was trod by shoe leather, and 
as old as Chinon in Touraine ! Try it soon, my boy. 
Quebec is a sack full of pearls ! ” Hortense pulled him 
mischievously by the coat, so he caught her hand and held 
it fast in his, while he proceeded : ^‘You put your hand in 
the sack and take out the first that offers. It will be worth 
a Jew’s ransom ! If you are lucky to find the fairest, trust 
me it will be the identical pearl of great price for which 
the merchant went and sold all that he had and bought it. 
Is not that Gospel, Father de Berey ? I think I have heard 
something like that preached from the pulpit of the Recol- 
lets ? ” 

Matter of Brimborion ! Chevalier ! not to questioned 
by laymen ! Words of wisdom for my poor brothers of St. 
Francis, who after renouncing the world like to know that 
they have renounced something worth having ! But not to 
preach a sermon on your parable, Chevalier, I will pro- 
mise Colonel Philibert that when he has found the pearl of 
great price, — ” Father de Berey, who knew a world of 
secrets, glanced archly at Amelie as he said this, — ‘‘ the 
bells of our monastery shall ring out such a merry peal as 
they have not rung since fat Brother Le Gros broke his 
wind, and short Brother Bref stretched himself out half 
a yard pulling the bell ropes on the wedding of the Dauphin. 

Great merriment followed the speech of Father de Berey. 
Hortense rallied the Chevalier, a good old widower, upon 
himself not travelling the plain way between Peronne and 
St. Quintin, and jestingly offered herself to travel with 


226 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


him like a couple of gypsies, carrymg their budget of happi- 
ness pick a back through the world. 

‘‘ Better than that ! ’’ La Come exclaimed, Hortense was 
• worthy to ride on the baggage-wagons in his next campaign ! 
Would she go ? ” She gave him her hand “ I expect noth- 
ing else ! said she. I am a soldier’s daughter, and expect 
to live a soldier’s wife, and die a soldier’s widow. But a 
truce to jest. It is harder to be witty than wise,” continued 
she. ‘‘ What is the matter with Cousin Le Gardeur } ” Her 
eyes w^ere fixed upon him as he read a note just handed to 
him by a servant. He crushed it in his hand with a flash of 
anger, and made a motion as if about to tear it, but did not. 
He placed it in his bosom. But the hilarity of his counten- 
ance was gone. 

There was another person seated at the table, whose 
quick eye, drawn by sisterly affection, saw Le Gardeur’s 
movement before even Hortense. Amelie was impatient 
to leave her seat and go beside him, but she could not at 
the moment leave the lively circle around her. She at once 
conjectured that the note was from Angelique des Meloises. 
After drinking deeply two or three time Le Gardeur arose, 
and with a faint excuse that did not impose on his partner, 
left the table. Amelie rose quickly also, excusing herself 
to the Bourgeois and joined her brother in the park, where 
the cool night air blew fresh and inviting for a walk. 

Pretty Cecile Touraugeau had caught a glimpse of the 
handwriting as she sat by the side of Le Gardeur, and 
guessed correctly whence it had come, and why her partner 
so suddenly left the table. 

She was out of humor, the red mark upon her forehead 
grew redder as she pouted in visible discontent. But the 
great world moves on, carrying alternate storms and sun- 
shine upon its surface. The company rose from the table. 
Some to the ball-room, some to the park and conservatories. 
Cecile’s was a happy disposition, easily consoled for her 
sorrows. Every trace of her displeasure was banished and 
almost forgotten from the moment the gay, handsome 
Jumonville de .Villiers invited her out to the grand balcony, 
where he said, ‘‘ the rarest pastime was going on ! ” 

And rare pastime it was ! A group of laughing but half 
serious girls were gathered round Doctor Gauthier, urging 
him to tell their fortunes by consulting the stars, which 
to-night shone out with unusual brilliancy. 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 


227 


At that period, as at the present, and in every age of the 
world, the female sex, like the Jews of old, asks signs, 
while the Greeks, that is the men, seek wisdom. 

The time never was, and never will be, when a woman 
will cease to be curious, when her imagination will not fore- 
cast the decrees of fate in regard to the culminating event of 
her life, and her whole nature — marriage. It was in vain 
Doctor Gauthier protested his inability to read the stars 
without his celestial eyeglasses. 

The ladies would not accept his excuses, “ He knew the 
heavens by heart,’’ they said, “ and could read the stars of 
destiny as easily as the Bishop his breviary.” 

In truth the worthy doctor was not only a believer, but 
an adept in astrology. He had favored his friends with not 
a few horoscopes and nativities when pressed to do 
so. His good nature was of the substance of butter, any 
one that liked could spread it over their bread. Many good 
men are eaten up in that way by greedy friends. 

Hortense Beauharnois urged the Doctor so merrily and so 
perseveringly, promising to marry him herself, if the stars 
said so, that he laughingly gave way, but declared “ he 
would tell Hortense’s fortune first, which deserved to be 
good enough to make her fulfil her promise just made. 

“ She was resigned,” she said, “ and would accept any 
fate from the rank of a Queen to a cell among the old 
maids of St. Cyr ! The girls of Quebec hung all their hopes 
on the stars, bright and particular ones especially. They 
were too loving to live single, and too proud to live poor. 
But she was one who would not wait for ships to land that 
never came, and plums to drop into her mouth that 
never ripened. Hortense would be ruled by the stars, and 
wise Doctor Gauthier should to-night declare her fate.” 

They all laughed at this free talk of Hortense. Not a 
few of the ladies shrugged their shoulders and looked 
askance at each other, but many present wished they had 
courage to speak like her to Doctor Gauthier. 

“ Well ! I see there is nothing else for it but to submit 
to my ruling star, and that is you, Hortense 1 ” cried the 
Doctor. “ So please stand up before me while I take an 
inventory of your looks, as a preliminary to telling your 
fortune.” 

Hortense placed herself instantly before him. It is one 
of the privileges of our dry study,” remarked he, as he 


22 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


looked admiringly on the tall charming figure and frank 
countenance of the girl before him. 

“The Querente,” said he gravely, “is tall, straight, 
slender, arms long, hands and feet of the smallest, hair just 
short of blackness, piercing, roving eyes, dark as night and 
full of fire, sight quick, and temperament alive with energy, 
wit and sense. 

“ O tell my fortune, not my character ! I shall shame of 
energy, wit and sense, if I hear such flattery. Doctor ! ’’ 
exclaimed she, shaking herself like a young eagle preparing 
to fly. 

“ We shall’ see what comes of it, Hortense ! replied he 
gravely, as with his gold headed cane he slowly quartered 
the heavens like an ancient Augur, and noted the planets 
in their houses. The doctor was quite serious, and even 
Hortense, catching his looks, stood very silent as he 
studied the celestial aspects. 

‘‘Carrying through ether in perpetual round 
Decrees and resolutions of the Gods.” 

“ The Lord of the ascendant,” said he “ is with the Lord 
of the seventh in the tenth house. The Querente, there- 
fore, shall marry the man made for her, but not the man of 
her youthful hope and her first love.” 

“ The stars are true,” continued he, speaking to him- 
self rather than to her. “Jupiter in the seventh house 
denotes rank and dignity by marriage, and Mars in sextile 
foretells successful wars. It is wonderful, Hortense ! The 
blood of Beauharnois shall sit on thrones more than one, it 
shall rule France, Italy, and Flanders ; but not New France, 
for Saturn in quintile looks darkly upon the Twins, who 
rule America 1 ” 

“ Come, Jumonville,” exclaimed Hortense, “congratu- 
late Claude on the greatness awaiting the house of Beau- 
harnois, and condole with me that I am to see none of it 
myself ! I do not care for kings and queens in the third 
generation, but I do care for happy fortune in the present, 
for those I know and love ! Come, Jumonville, have your 
fortune told now, to keep me in countenance. If the 
Doctor hits the truth for you I shall believe in him for 
myself.” 

“ That is a good idea, Hortense,” replied Jumonville ; 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 


229 

“ I long ago hung my hat on the stars — let the Doctor try 
if he can find it.’^ 

The Doctor, in great good humor, surve3^ed the dark, 
handsome face and lithe, athletic figure of Junionville de 
Villiers. He again raised his cane with the gravity of a 
Roman Pontifex, marking off his Te7nplum in the heavens. 
Suddenly he stopped. He repeated more carefully his 
survey, and then turned his earnest eyes upon the young 
soldier. 

“ You see ill-fortune for me. Doctor ! ’’ exclaimed 
Jumonville, with bright, unflinching eyes, as he would 
look on danger of any kind. 

“ The Hyleg, or giver of life, is afflicted by Mars in 
the eighth house, and Saturn is in evil aspect in the ascen- 
dant ! ” said the Doctor slowly. 

‘‘ That sounds warlike and means fighting,’’ I suppose. 
Doctor. ‘‘ It is a brave fortune for a soldier. Go on ! ” 
Jumonville was in earnest now. 

“ The pars fortunceP continued the Doctor, gazing 
upward, ‘‘ rejoices in a benign aspect with Venus. Fame, 
true love, and immortality will be yours, Jumonville de 
Villiers ; but you will die young under the flag of your 
country and for sake of your King ! You will not marry, 
but all the maids and matrons of New France will lament 
your fate with tears, and from your death shall spring up 
the salvation of your native land ! How, I see not ! 
But, decretu7n est, J umonville, ask me no more ! ” 

A thrill like a stream of electricity passed through the' 
company. Their mirth was extinguished for none could 
wholly free their minds from the superstition of their 
age. The good Doctor sat down and wiped his moistened 
eye-glasses. ‘‘ He would tell no more to-night,” he said. 
“ He had really gone too far, making jest of earnest, and 
earnest of jest, and begged pardon of Jumonville for com- 
plying with his humor.” 

The young soldier laughed merrily. If fame, immor- 
tality, and true love are to be mine, what care I for death ? 
It will be worth giving up life for, to have the tears of 
the maids and matrons of New France to lament your 
fate. What could the most ambitious soldier desire, 
more ? ” 

The words of Jumonville struck a kindred chord in the 
bosom of Hortense de Beauharnois. They were stamped 


230 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


upon her heart for ever. A few years after this prediction 
Jumonville de Villiers lay slain under a flag of truce* on 
the bank of the Monongahela, and of all the maids and 
matrons of New France who wept over his fate, none 
shed more and bitterer tears than his fair betrothed bride, 
Hortense de Beauharnois. 

The prediction of the Sieur Gauthier was repeated and 
retold as a strangely true tale. It passed into the trad- 
itions of the people, and lingered in their memory gener- 
ations after the festival of Belmont was utterly forgotten. 

When the great revolt took place in the English 
colonies, the death of the gallant Jumonville de Villiers 
was neither forgotten nor forgiven by New France. Con- 
gress appealed in vain for union and help from Canadians. 
Washington’s proclamations were trodden under foot, and 
his troops driven back or captured. If Canada was lost 
to France partly through the death of Jumonville, it may 
also be said that his blood helped to save it to England. 
The ways of Providence are so mysterious in working out 
the problems of national existence that the life or death 
of a single individual may turn the scale of destiny over 
half a continent. 

But all these events lay as yet darkly in the womb of 
the future. The gallant Jumonville, who fell, and his 
brother Coulon, who took his ‘‘ noble revenge ” upon 
Washington by sparing his life, were to-day the gayest 
of the gay throng who had assembled to do honor to Pierre 
Philibert. 

While this group of merry guests, half in jest, half in 
earnest, were trying to discover in the stars the “ far reaching 
concords ” that moulded the life of each, Amelie led her 
brother away from the busy grounds near the mansion, and 
took a quiet path that led into the great park which they 
entered. 

The western horizon still retained a streak from day’s 
golden finger where the sun had gone down. It was very 
dusk under the great oaks and thick pines. But the valley 
was visible as it yawned darkly beneath their feet, and the 
shimmering river at the bottom could be traced by the 
reflection of the stars that followed its course. 

A cool salt-water breeze, following the flood tide that 
was coming up the broad St Lawrence, swept their faces as 
Ame'lie walked by the side of Le Gardeur, talking in her 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 


231 


quiet way of things familiar, and of home interests until 
she saw the fever of his blood abate, and his thoughts 
return into calmer channels. Her gentle craft subdued his 
impetuous mood — if craft it might be called — for more 
wisely cunning than all craft is the prompting of true affec- 
tion, where reason responds . like Instinct to the wants of 
the heart. 

They sat down upon a garden seat overlooking the 
great valley. None of the guests had sauntered out so far, 
but Amelie’s heart was full, she had much to say, and 
wished no interruption. 

I am glad to sit in this pretty spot, Amelie ’’ said he,- 
at last, for he had listened in silence to the sweet low voice 
of his sister as she kept up her half sad, half glad mono- 
logue, because she saw it pleased him. It brought him 
into a mood in which she might venture to talk of the 
matter that pressed sorely upon her heart. 

“ A little while ago, I feared I might offend you, 
Le Gardeur,” said she, taking his hand tenderly in hers, ‘‘ if 
I spoke all I wished. I never did offend you that I remem- 
ber, brother, did I ’’ 

“ Never, my incomparable sister, you never did, and 
never could. Say what you will, ask me what you like ; but 
I fear I am unworthy of your affection, sister 1 '' 

‘‘You are not unworthy, God gave you as my only 
brother, you will never be unworthy in my eyes. But it 
touches me to the quick to suspect others may think lightly 
of you, Le Gardeur.” 

He flinched, for his pride was touched, but he knew 
Amelie was right. ‘‘ It was weakness in me,’’ said he, “ I 
confess it sister. To pour wine upon my vexation in hope 
to cure it, is to feed a fire with oil. To throw fire into a 
powder magazine were wisdom compared with my folly, 
Amelie ; I was angry at the message I got at such a time. 
Angelique des Meloises has no mercy upon her lovers ! ” 

“ O my prophetic heart ! I thought as much ! It was 
Angelique, then, sent you the letter you read at table ? ” 

“ Yes, who else could have moved me so } The time 
was ill-chosen, but I suspect hating theBourgeois, as she 
does, Angelique intended to call me from Pierre’s fete. 
I shall obey her now, but to night she shall obey me, decide 
to make or mar me, one way or other ! You may read 
the letter, Amelie, if you will.” 


232 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


I care not to read it, brother, I know Angelique too 
well not to fear her influence over you. Her craft and bold- 
ness were always a terror to her companions. But you will 
not leave Pierre’s fete to night ? ” added she, half imploring- 
ly. For she felt keenly the discourtesy to Pierre Philibert. 

I must do even that, sister ! Were Angelique as 
faulty as she is fair I should onl}^ love her the more for 
her faults, and make them my own. Were she to come to 
me like Herodias with the Baptist’s head in a charger, I 
should outdo Herod in keeping my pledge to her.” 

Amelie uttered a low moaning cry. ‘‘ Oh my dear 
infatuated brother ! It is not in nature for a De Repen- 
tigny to love irrationally like that ! What maddening 
philtre have you drank to intoxicate you with a woman 
who uses you so imperiously ? But you will not go, Le 
Gardeur !” added she clinging to his arm. “You are safe 
so long as you are with your sister, you will be safe no 
longer if you go to the Maison des Meloises, to night ! ” 

“ Go I must and shall, Amelie ! I have drank the mad- 
dening philtre, I know that, Amelie ! and would not take 
an antidote, if I had one. The world has no antidote to 
cure me. I have no wish to be cured of love for Angelique, 
and in fine I cannot be, so let me go and receive the rod 
for coming to Belmont and the reward for leaving it at her 
summons!” He affected a tone of levity, but Amelie’s 
ear easily detected the false ring of it. 

“ Dearest brother I ” said she, “ are you sure Angelique 
returns or is capable of returning love like yours ? She is 
like the rest of us, weak and fickle, merely human and not 
at all the divinity a man in his fancy worships when in 
love with a woman.” It was in vain, however, for Amelie 
to try to persuade her brother of that. 

“ What care I, Amelie, so long as Angelique is not 
weak and fickle to me ? ” answered he, “ but she will think 
her tardy lover is both weak and fickle unless I put in a 
speedy appearance at the Maison des Meloises ! ” He 
rose up as if to depart, still holding his sister by the hand. 

Amelie’s tears flowed silently in the darkness. She 
was not willing to plant a seed of distrust in the bosom of 
her brother, yet she remembered bitterly and indignantly 
what Angelique had said of her intentions towards the 
Intendant. Was she using Le Gardeur as a foil to set off 
her attractions in the eyes of Bigot ? 


SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. ^ 233 ^ 

‘‘ Brother ! ” said Amalie, I am a woman and compre- 
hend my sex better than you. I know Angelique’s far 
reaching ambition and crafty ways ; are you sure, not in 
outward persuasion but in inward .conviction, that she 
loves you, as a woman should love the man she means to 
marry ? ” . 

Le Gardeur felt her words like a silver probe that 
searched his heart. With all his unbounded devotion, he 
knew Angelique too well, not to feel a pang of distrust 
sometimes, as she showered her coquetries upon every side 
of her. “ It was the overabundance of her love,” he said, 
but he thought it often fell like the dew round Gideons’ 
fleece, refreshing all the earth about it, but leaving the 
fleece dry. ‘‘ Amelie ! ” said he, ‘‘you try me hard and 
tempt me too, my sister, but it is useless. Angelique may 
be false as Cressid to other men, she will not be false to 
me ! She has sworn it, with her hand in mine, before the 
altar of Notre Dame. I would. go down to perdition with 
her in my arms rather than be a crowned king with all the 
world of women to choose from and not get her.” 

Amelie shuddered at his vehemence ; but she knew how 
useless was expostulation. She wisely refrained, deeming 
it her duty like a good sister, to make the best of what 
she could not hinder. Some jasmins overhung the seat, 
she plucked a handful and gave them to him as they rose 
to return to the house. 

“ Take them with you, Le Gardeur” said she, giving him 
the flowers which she tied into a wreath. “ They will 
remind Angelique that she has a powerful rival in your 
sister’s love.” 

He took them as they walked slowly back. “ Would 
she were like you, Amelie, in all things,” said he. I will put 
some of your flowers in her hair to-night, for your sake, 
sister.” 

“ And for her own ! May they be for you both an 
augury of good ! Mind and return home, Le Gardeur, 
after your visit. I shall sit up to await your arrival, to 
congratulate you ; ” and, after a pause, she added, “ or to 
console you, brother ! ” 

“ O, no fear, sister ! ” replied he, cheeringly. “Angelique 
is true as steel to me. You shall call her my betrothed to- 
morrow ! Good by! And now go dance with all delight 
till morning.” He kissed her and departed for the city, 


-234 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


leaving her in the ball room by the side of the Lady De 
Tilly. 

Amdlie related to her aunt the result of her conversa- 
tion with Le Gardeur, and the cause of his leaving the fete 
so abruptly. The Lady Be Tilly listened with surprise 
and distress. ^‘To think/’ said she, of Le Gardeur ask- 
ing that terrible girl to marry him ! My only hope is, she 
will refuse him. And if it be as I hear, I think she will ! ” 

‘‘ It would be the ruin of Le Gardeur if she did, aunt ! 
You cannot think how determined he is on this marriage.” 

It would be his ruin if she accepted him ! ” replied 
the Lady De Tilly. “ With any other woman Le Gardeur 
might have a fair chance of happiness ; but none with her ! 
More than one of her lovers lies in a bloody grave by 
reason of her coquetries. She has ruined every man whom 
she has flattered into loving her. She is without affection. 
Her thoughts are covered with a veil of deceit impene- 
trable. She would sacrifice the whole world to her vanity. 
I fear, Amelie, she will sacrifice Le Gardeur as ruthlessly 
as the most worthless of her admirers. 

We can only hope for the best, aunt ; and I do think 
Angelique loves Le Gardeur as she never loved any other.” 
Amelie looked into her own heart, and thought that where 
love really is, the world cannot limit its possibilities. 

They were presently rejoined by Pierre Philibert. The 
Lady De Tilly and Amelie apologized for Le Gardeur’s 
departure. He had been compelled to go to the city on 
an affair of urgency, and had left them to make his excuses.” 
Pierre Philibert was not without a shrewd perception of the 
state of affairs. He pitied Le Gardeur and excused him, 
speaking most kindly of him in a way that touched the 
heart of Amelie. The ball went on with unflagging spirit 
and enjoyment. The old walls fairly vibrated with the 
music and dancing of the gay company. 

The Chevalier La Come finding the Lady De Tilly and 
his god-daughter anxious to leave before midnight, ordered 
their carriages and prepared to accompany them home. 

The music, like the tide in the great river that night, 
reached its flood only after the small hours had set in. 
Amelie had given her hand to Pierre for one or two dances, 
and many a friendly, many a half envious guess, was made 
as to the probable Chatelaine of Belmont. 

The Governor, the T,ady De Tilly, Amelie, and many 


so GLOZED THE TEMPTER. 


235 


of the elder guests, took courteous leave of the Bourgeois, 
and of Pierre, and returned about midnight to the city 
But the music beat wearily under their feet before the 
younger and more ardent votaries of the dance could leave 
the splendid ball-room of Belmont. The spires of the 
distant churches and convents began to glitter in the grey 
of the morning by the time they had all reached their 
couches, to talk or dream over the memorable fete of Pierre 
Philibert — the finest, as all pronounced it, ever given in 
the old city of Quebec. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

so GLOZED THE TEMPTER. 

The lamps burned brightly in the boudoir of Angelique 
Des Meloises on the night of the fete of Pierre Philibert. 
Masses of fresh flowers filled the antique Sevres vases, send- 
ing delicious odors through the apartment which was fur- 
nished in a style of almost royal splendor. Upon the 
white hearth a few billets of wood blazed cheerfully, for, 
after a hot day, as was not uncommon in New France, a 
cool, salt-water breeze came up the great river,bringing 
reminders of cold sea-washed rocks and snowy crevices 
still lingering upon the mountainous shores of the St. 
Lawrence. 

Angelique sat idly watching the wreaths of smoke as 
they rose in shapes fantastic as her own thoughts. She 
was ill at ease and listened eagerly to every sound that 
came up from the street, as she watched and waited for 
the footstep she knew so well. 

By that subtle instinct which is a sixth sense in woman, 
she knew that Le Gardeur De Repentigny would visit her 
to-night, and renew his offer of marriage. She tried to 
rehearse what she should say to him, and how comport her- 
self so as neither to affront him nor commit herself by any 
rash engagement. Her fingers worked nervously together 
as she pondered over expressions to use and studied looks 
to give him, that should be neither too warm nor too cold. 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


236 

She meant to retain his love and evade his proposals, and 
she never for a moment doubted her ability to accomplish 
her ends. Men’s hearts had hitherto been but potter’s 
clay in her hands, and she had no misgivings now, but she 
felt that the love of Le Gardeur was a thing she could not 
tread on without a shock to herself like the counter 
stroke of a torpedo to the naked foot of an Indian, who 
rashly steps upon it as it basks in a sunny pool. 

She was agitated beyond her wont, for she loved Le 
Gardeur with a strange selfish passion, for her own sake, 
not for his — a sort of love not uncommon with either sex. 
She had the frankness to be half ashamed of it, for she 
knew the wrong she was doing to one of the most noble 
and faithful hearts in the world. But the arrival of the 
Intendant had unsettled every good resolution she had 
once made to marry Le Gardeur De Repentigny and be- 
come a reputable matron in society. Her ambitious fan- 
tasies dimmed every perception of duty to her own heart 
as well as his ; and she had worked herself into that unen- 
viable frame of mind which possesses a woman who cannot 
resolve either to consent or deny, to accept her lover or to 
let him go ! 

The solitude of her apartment became insupportable to 
her. She sprang up, opened the window, and sat down in 
the balcony outside, trying to find composure by looking 
down into the dark still street. The voices of two men 
engaged in eager conversation reached her ear. They sat 
upon the broad steps of the house, so that every word they 
spoke reached her ear, although she could scarcely distin- 
guish them in the darkness. These were no other than Max 
Grimeau and Blind Bartemy, the brace of beggars whose 
post was at the gate of the Basse Ville. They seemed to 
be comparing the amount of alms each had received during 
the day, and were arranging for a supper at some obscure 
haunt they frequented in the purlieus of the lower town, 
when another figure, came up, short, dapper, and carrying 
a knapsack, as Angelique could detect by the glimmer of a 
lantern that hung on a rope stretched across the street. He 
was greeted warmly by the old mendicants. 

“ Sure as my old Musket I — it is Master Pothier, and no- 
body else ! ” exclaimed Max Grimeau, rising, and giving 
the new comer a hearty embrace. “ Don’t you see, Bar- 
temy ? He has been foraging among the fat wives of 


so GLOZED THE TEMPTER. 


237 


the South shore. What a cheek he blows ! — red as a peony, 
and fat as a Dutch Burgomaster ! ” Max had seen plenty 
of the world when he marched under Marshal de Belle- 
isle ; so he was at no loss for apt comparisons. 

. “ Yes ! ’’ replied blind Bartemy, holding out his hand 
to be shaken. “ I see by your voice, Master Pothier, that 
you have not said grace over bare bones during your ab- 
sence. But where have you been this long time ? ” 

“ Oh, fleecing the king’s subjects to the best of my poor 
ability in the law ; and without half the success of you and 
Max, here, who toll the gate of the Basse Ville more easily 
than the Intendant gets in the king’s taxes ! ” 

Why not ? ” replied Bartemy, with a pious twist of 
his neck, and an upward cast of his blank orbs. ‘‘It is 
pour r amour de Dieu ! We beggars save more souls than 
the Cure ; for we are always exhorting men to charity. [ 
think we ought to be part of Holy Church as well as the 
Grey Friars.” 

“ And so we are part of Holy Church, Bartemy ! ” 
■ interrupted Max Grimeau. “ When the good Bishop 
washed twelve pair of our dirty feet on Maunday-Thursday 
in the Cathedral, I felt like an Apostle — I did ! My feet 
were just ready for benediction ; for see ! they had never 
been washed, that I remember of, since I marched to the 
relief of Prague ! But you should have been out to Bel- 
mont, to-day. Master Pothier ! There was the grandest 
Easter-pie ever made in New France! You might have 
carried on a lawsuit inside of it, and lived off the estate 
for a year — I ate a bushel of it. I did I ” 

“ Oh, the cursed luck is every day mine I ” replied Master 
Pothier, clapping his hands upon his stomach. “ I would not 
have missed that Easter-pie, — no, — not to draw the Pope’s 
will 1 But — as it is laid down in the Couturne . d’ Orleans 
(Tit. 17), the absent lose the usufruct of their rights ; vide 
also Pothier des successions. — I lost my share of the pie of 
Belmont I ” 

“ Well never mind. Master Pothier,” replied Max. 
“ Don’t grieve ; you shall go with us to night to the Fleur de 
Lys, in the Sault au Matelot. Bartemy and I have bespoken 
an eel-pie and a gallon of humming cider of Normandy. We 
shall all be jolly as the Marguilliers of St. Roch, after 
tithing the parish 1 ” 

“ Have with you, then ! I am free now ; I have just 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


238 

delivered a letter to the Intendant from a lady at Beau- 
manoir, and got a crown for it. I will lay it on top of 
your eel-pie, Max ! 

Angelique, from being simply amused at the conversa- 
tion of the old beggars, became in an instant all eyes and 
ears at the w^ords of Master Pothier. 

Had you ever the fortune to see that lady at Beau- 
manoir ? ” asked Max, with more curiosity than was to be 
expected of one in his position. 

“No : the letter was handed me by Dame Tremblay, 
with a cup of wine. But the Intendant gave me a crown,' 
when he read it. I never saw the Chevalier Bigot in better 
humor ! That letter touched both his purse and his feelings. 
But how did you ever come to hear of the Lady of Beau- 
manoir ? ’’ 

“ Oh, Bartemy and I hear everything at the gate of 
the Basse Ville ! My Lord Bishop and Father Glapion of 
the Jesuits met in the gate one day, and spoke of her, 
each asking the other, . if he knew who she was ? — when up, 
rode the Intendant ; and the Bishop made free, as Bishops 
will, you know, to question him, whether he kept a lady at 
the Chateau ? 

“ ‘ A round dozen of them ! my Lord Bishop !’ replied 
Bigot, laughing. La ! It takes the Intendant to talk 
down a Bishop ! He bade my Lord not to trouble him- 
self. The lady was under his tutelle ! which I comprehended 
as little, as little — ’’ 

“ As you do your Nominy Do 7 nmy ! ’’ replied Pothier. 
“ Don’t be angry. Max, if I infer that the Intendant quot- 
ed Pigean, (Tit. 2, 27); Le Tuteiir est comp table de s a gestionP 

“ I don’t care what the Pigeons have to say to it ! That 
is what the Intendant said ! ” replied Max, hotly, and “ that^ 
for your law grimoire. Master Pothier ! ” Max snapped 
his fingers like the lock of his musket, at Prague, to 
indicate what he meant by that ! 

“ Oh, Inepte loqueiis ! you don’t understand either law 
or Latin, Max ! ” exclaimed Pothier, shaking his ragged 
wig with an air of pity. 

“ I understand begging ; and that is getting without 
cheating, and much more to the purpose,” replied Max, 
hotly. “ Look you. Master Pothier ! you are learned as 
three curates ; but I can get more money in the gate of the 
Basse Ville by simply standing still, and crying out, Four 


so GLOZED THE TEMPTER. 


239 


ramour deDieu!^ 2 iV^^ovi^\i}(\ your budget of law lingo- 
jingo., running up and down the country until the dogs eat 
off the calves of your legs, as they say in the Nivernois.’^ 

‘‘Well, never mind what they say in the Nivernois 
about the calves of my legs ! Bon coq 7ie fiit jamais gras / 
A game-cock is never fat ; and that is Master Pothier, dit 
Robin. Lean as are my calves, they will carry away as 
much of your eel-pie to night as those of the stoutest carter 
in Quebec ! 

“ And the pie is baked by this time ! — so let us be jog- 
ging, ’’ interrupted Bartemy, rising. “ Now give me 
your arm. Max ! and with Master Pothier’s on the other 
side, I shall walk to the Fleur de Lys straight as a steeple.’’ 

The glorious prospect of supper, made all three merry 
as crickets on a warm hearth, as they jogged over the 
pavement, in their clouted shoes, little suspecting they had 
left a flame of anger in the breast of Angelique des Me- 
loises, kindled by the few words of Pothier, respecting the 
lady of Beaumanoir. 

Angelique recalled, with bitterness, that the rude bearer 
of the note had observed so77iething that had touched the 
heart and opened the purse of the Intendant. What was it ? 
Was Bigot playing a game with Angelique des Meloises ? 
Woe to him and the lady of Beaumanoir, if he was ! As she 
sat musing over it, a knock was heard on the door of her 
boudoir. She left the balcony, and re-entered her room, 
where a neat comely girl, in a servant’s dress, was waiting 
to speak to her. 

The girl was not known to Angelique. But curtseying 
very low, she informed her that she was Fanchon Dodier, 
a cousin of Lizette’s. She had been in service at the Cha- 
teau of Beaumanoir, but had just left it. “ There is no 
living under Dame Tremblay !” said she, “if she suspect 
a maid-servant of flirting, ever so little, with M. Froumois, 
the handsome Valet of the Intendant ! She imagined that I 
did ; and such a life as she has led me, my lady ! So I 
came to the city, to ask advice of cousin Lizette, and seek 
a new place. I am sure Dame Tremblay need not be so 
hard upon the maids. She is always boasting of her own 
triumphs when she was the charming Josephine. ” 

“ And Lizette referred you to me ?” asked Angelique, too 
occupied just now to mind the gossip about Dame Tremblay, 
which another time she would have enjoyed immensely. 


240 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


She eyed the girl with intense curiosity ; for, might she not 
tell her something of the secret over -which she was eating 
her heart out ? 

‘‘ Yes, my Lady ! Lizette referred me to you, and told 
me to be very circumspect indeed about what I said touch- 
ing the Intendant, but simply to ask if you would take me 
into your service ? Lizette need not have warned me about 
the Intendant ; for I never reveal secrets of my masters or 
mistresses, never ! never ! my Lady ! ’’ 

“You are more cunning than you look, nevertheless,^’ 
thought Angdlique, “ whatever scruple you may have about 
secrets. Fanchon,” said she, “ I will make one condition 
with you : I will take you into my service if you will tell 
me whether you ever saw the Lady of Beaumanoir ? ” 
Angelique’s notions of honor, clear enough in theory, 
never prevented her sacrificing them without compunction, 
to gain an object or learn a secret that interested her. 

“ I will willingly tell you all I know, my Lady. 1 have 
seen her once ; none of the servants are supposed to know 
she is in the Chateau, but of course all do. ” Fanchon 
stood with her two hands in the pockets of her apron, as 
ready to talk as the pretty Grisette who directed Lawrence 
Sterne to the Opera Comique. 

“ Of course ! ” remarked Angelique, “ a secret like that 
could never be kept in the Chateau of Beaumanoir ! 
Now tell me, Fanchon, what is she like ? ” Angelique sat up 
eagerly, and brushed back the hair from her ear with a 
rapid stroke of her hand, as she questioned the girl. 
There was a look in her eyes that made Fanchon a little 
afraid, and brought out more truth than she intended to 
impart. 

“ I saw her this morning, my Lady, as she knelt in her 
oratory. The half-open door tempted me to look, in spite 
of the orders of Dame Tremblay.” 

“ Ah ! you saV her this morning ! ” repeated Angelique 
impetuously ; “ how does she appear ? Is she better in 
looks than when she first came to the Chateau, or worse ? 
She ought to be worse, much worse ! ” 

“ I do not know, my Lady, but, as I said, I looked in 
the door, although forbid to do so. Half-open doors are 
so tempting, and one cannot shut one’s eyes ! Even a key- 
hole is hard to resist when you long to know what is on 
the other side of it, — I always found it so ! ” 


so GLOZED THE TEMPTER. 


241 


“ I dare say you did ! But how does she look ? ” broke 
in Angelique, impatiently stamping her dainty foot on the 
floor. 

Oh, so pale my Lady ! but her face is the loveliest I 
ever saw, — almost,” added she, with an after-thought, “ but 
so sad ! she looks like the twin sister of the blessed 
Madonna in the Seminary Chapel, my Lady.” 

“ Was she at her devotions, Fanchon? ” 

I think not, my Lady ; she was reading a letter which 
she had just received from the Intendant.” 

Angelique’s eyes were* now ablaze. She conjectured at 
once that Caroline was corresponding with Bigot, and that 
the letter brought to the Intendant by Master Pothier was in 
reply to one from him. “ But how do you know the letter 
she was reading was from the Intendant ? It could not 
be ! ” Angelique ’s eyebrows contracted angrily, and a 
dark shadow passed over her face. She said. “ It could 
not be,” but she felt it could be, and was. 

“Oh, but it was from the Intendant, my Lady ! I heard 
her repeat his name, and pray God to bless Frangois Bigot 
for his kind words. That is the Intendant’s name, is it 
not, my Lady ? ” 

“ To be sure it is ! I should not have doubted you, 
Fanchon ! but could you gather the purport of that letter ? 
Speak truly, Fanchon, and I will reward you splendidly. 
What think you it was about ? ” 

“ I did more than gather the purport of it, my Lady ; 
I have got the letter itself ! Angelique sprang up 
eagerly, as if to embrace Fanchon. “ I happened, in my 
eagerness, to jar the door \ the lady imagining some one was 
coming, rose suddenly, and left the room. In her haste 
she dropped the letter on the floor. I picked it up ; I 
thought no harm, as I was determined to leave Dame 
Tremblay to day. Would my Lady like to read the letter } ” 

Angelique fairly sprang at the offer. “You have got 
the letter, Fanchon .? Let me see it instantly ! How con- 
siderate of you to bring.it! I will give you this ring 
for that letter 1 ” She pulled a ring oS her finger, and, 
seizing Fanchon’s hand, put it on hers. Fanchon was en- 
chanted ; she admired the ring, as she turned it round and 
round her finger. 

“ I am infinitely obliged, my Lady, for your gift. It is 
worth a million such letters,” said she.' 

16 


242 


THE CHIEN HO R, 


The letter outweighs a million rings/^ replied Ange- 
lique, as she tore it open violently, and sat down to read. 

The first words struck her like a stone. 

“ Dear Caroline : ’’ It was written in the bold hand of 
the Intendant, which Ang^lique knew very well. “ You 
have suffered too much for my sake, but I am neither unfeel- 
ing nor ungrateful. I have news for you ! Your father has 
gone to France in search of you ! No one suspects you 
to be here. Remain patiently where you are at present, 
and in the utmost secresy, or there will be a storm that 
may upset us both. Try to be happy, and let not the 
sweetest eyes were ever seen, grow dim with needless 
regrets. Better and brighter days will surely come. Mean- 
while, pray, pray! my Caroline ; it will do you good, and 
perhaps make me more worthy of the love which I know is 
wholly mine. Adieu, Francois.” 

A ngelique devoured rather than read the letter. She had 
no sooner perused it than she tore it up in a paroxysm of 
fur}^, scattering its pieces like snow-flakes over the floor, 
and stamping on them with her firm foot as if she would 
tread them into annihilation. 

Fanchon was not unaccustomed to exhibitions of fem- 
inine wrath ; but she was fairly frightened at the terrible 
rage that shook Angelique from head to foot. 

‘‘Fanchon ! did you read that letter } ” demanded she, 
turning suddenly upon the trembling maid. The girl saw 
her mistress’ cheeks twitch with passion, and her hands 
clench as if she would strike her, if she answered yes. 

Shrinking with fear ; Fanchon replied faintly “ No, my 
Lady, I cannot read.” 

“And you have allowed no other person to read it? ” 

“No, my Lady ; I was afraid to show the letter to any 
one ; you know, I ought not to have taken it ! ” 

“Was no inquiry made about it? ” Angelique laid her 
hand upon the girl’s shoulder, who trembled from head to 
foot. 

“Yes, my Lady; Dame Tremblay turned the Chateau 
upside down, looking for it ; but I dared not tell her I had 
it 1 ” 

“ I think you speak truth, Fanchon!” replied Ange- 
lique, getting somewhat over her passion, but her bosom 
still heaved like the ocean after a storm. “ And now mind 
what I say ! ” Her hand pressed heavily on the girl’s shoul- 


so GLOZED THE TEMPTER. 


243 

der, while she gave her a look that seemed to freeze the 
very marrow in her bones. 

You know a secret about the Lady of Beaumanoir, 
Fanchon, and one about me, too ! If you ever speak of 
either, to man or woman, or even to yourself, I will cut the 
tongue out of your mouth, and nail it to that door-post ! 
Mind my words, Fanchon ! , I never fail to do what I 
threaten.” 

Oh, only do not look so at me, my Lady ! ” replied poor 
Fanchon, perspiring with fear. am sure I never shall 
speak of it. I swear by our Blessed Lady of Ste. Foye ! I 
will never breathe to mortal that I gave you that letter.” 

‘‘ That will do 1 ” replied Angelique, throwing herself 
down in her great chair. ‘‘ And now, you may go to Li- 
zette ; she will attend to you. But, re77iember I ” 

The frightened girl did not wait for another command to 
go. Angelique held up her finger, which, to Fanchon, 
looked terrible as a poniard. She hurried down to the 
servants’ hall, with a secret held fast between her teeth, for 
once in her life ; and she trembled at the very thought of 
ever letting it escape. 

Angelique sat with her hands on her temples, staring 
upon the fire that flared and flickered in the deep fire- 
place. She had seen a wild, wicked vision there once 
before. It came again, as things evil never fail to come 
again at our bidding. Good may delay, but evil never 
waits. The red fire turned itself into shapes of lurid dens 
and caverns, changing from horror to horror, until her crea- 
tive fancy formed them into the secret chamber of Beau- 
manoir, with its one fair, solitary inmate — her rival for the 
hand of the Intendant, her fortunate rival, if she might 
believe the letter brought to her so strangely. Angelique 
looked fiercely at the fragments of it lying upon the carpet, 
and wished she had not destroyed it ; but every word of 
it was stamped upon her memory, as if branded with a 
hot iron. 

“ I see it all, now ! ” exclaimed she : “ Bigot’s falseness, 
and her shameless effrontery in seeking him in his very 
house. But it shall not be ! ” Angelique’s voice was like 
the cry of k wounded panther, tearing at the arrow which 
has pierced his flank. “ Is Angelique des Meloises to be 
humiliated by that woman 't Never! But my bright 
dreams will have no fulfilment, so long as she lives at Beau- 
manoir, — so long as she lives anywhere 1 ” 


244 


THE CHIEN U OR, 


She sat still for awhile, gazing into the fire ; and the se- 
cret chamber of Beaumanoir again formed itself before 
her vision. She sprang up, touched by the hand of her 
good angel, perhaps, and for the last time. “ Satan whis- 
pers it again in my ear ! ’’ cried she. ‘‘ Ste. Marie ! I am 
not so wicked as that ! Last night the thought came to 
me in the dark. I shook it oK at dawn of day. To-night 
it comes again ; and I let it touch me like a lover, and I 
neither withdraw my hand nor tremble ! To-morrow it 
will return for the last time, and stay with me ! and I shall 
let it sleep on my pillow ! The babe of sin will have been 
born, and waxed to a full Demon, and I shall yield myself up 
to his embraces I O Bigot, Bigot ! what have you not done ? 
Oest la faute d voiis ! C’est la faute d voiis I She repeated 
this exclamation several times, as if, by accusing Bigot, 
she excused her own evil imaginings, and cast the blame 
of them upon him. She seemed drawn down into a vor- 
tex, from which there was no escape. She gave herself up 
to its drift, in a sort of passionate abandonment The 
death or the banishment of Caroline were the only alter- 
natives she could contemplate. “ The sweetest eyes were 
ever seen ! ’’ Bigot’s foolish words,” thought she ; and 
the influence of those eyes must be killed, if Angelique 
des Meloises is ever to mount the lofty chariot of her 
ambition.” 

“ Other women,” she thought bitterly, “ would abandon 
greatness for love, and in the arms of a faithful lover, like 
Le Gardeur, find a compensation for the slights of the In- 
tendant ! ” 

But Angelique was not like other women. She was 
born to conquer men, — not to yield to them. The steps 
of a throne glittered in her wild fancy, and she would not 
lose the game of her life because she had missed the first 
throw. Bigot was false to her, but he was still worth the 
winning, for all the reasons which made her first listen to 
him. She had no love for him, — not a spark ! But his name, 
his rank, his wealth, his influence at Court, and a future 
career of glory there, — these things she had regarded as her 
own, by right of her beauty and skill in ruling men ! No 
rival shall ever boast she has conquered Angelique des 
Meloises ! ” cried she, clenching her hands. And thus it 
was in this crisis of her fate, the love of Le Gardeur was 
blown like a feather before the breath of her passionate 


SEALS OF LOVE, BUT SEAUD LN VALN. 245 

selfishness. The weights of gold pulled her down to the 
Nadir. Angelique’s final resolution was irrevocably ’taken, 
before her eager, hopeful lover appeared in answer to 
her summons recalling him from the festival of Belmont. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

SEALS OF LOVE, BUT SEALED IN VAIN. 

She sat waiting Le Gardeur’s arrival, and the thought 
of him began to assert its influence as the antidote of the 
poisonous stuff she had taken into her imagination. His 
presence so handsome, his manner so kind, his love so 
undoubted, carried her into a region of intense satisfaction. 
Angelique never thought so honestly well of herself as 
when recounting the marks of affection bestowed upon her 
by Le Gardeur de Repentigny. “ His love is a treasure 
for any woman to possess, and he has given it all to me ! 
said she to herself. “ There are women who value them- 
selves wholly by the value placed upon them by others ; 
but I value others by the measure of myself. I love Le 
Gardeur ; and what I love I do not mean to lose ! ” added 
she, with an inconsequence that fitted ill with her resolu- 
tion regarding the Intendant. But Angelique was one who 
reconciled to herself all professions, however opposite or 
however incongruous. 

A hasty knock at the door of the mansion, followed by 
the quick, well-known step up the broad stair, brought Le 
Gardeur into her presence. He looked flushed and dis- 
ordered, as he took her eagerly extended hand, and pressed 
it to his lips. 

Her whole aspect underwent a transformation in the 
presence of her lover. She was unfeignedly glad to see 
him. Without letting go his hand, she led him to the sofa, 
and sat down by him. Other men had the semblance of her 
graciousness and a perfect imitation it was too ; but he 
alone had the reality of her affection. 

“ Oh, Le Gardeur ! ” exclaimed she, looking him through 
and through, and detecting no flaw in his honest admira* 


THE CHIEN D'OR, 


246 

tion. Can you forgive me, for asking you to come and 
see me to-night? and for absolutely no reason! None in 
the world, Le Gardeur ! but that I longed to see you 1 I 
was jealous of Belmont for drawing you away from the 
Maison des Meloises to night ! ’’ 

‘‘ And what better reason could I have in the world 
than that you were longing to see me, Angelique ? I think 
I should leave the gate of heaven itself if you called me 
back, darling ! Your presence for a minute is more to 
me than hours of festivity at Belmont or the company of 
any other woman in the world/’ 

Angelique was not insensible to the devotion of Le 
Gardeur. Her feelings were touched, and never slow in 
finding an interpretation for them, she raised his hand 
quickly to her lips, and kissed it. ‘H had no motive in 
sending for you but to see you, Le Gardeur ! ” said she, 
will that content you ? If it wont — ” 

“ This shall,” replied he, kissing her cheek — which she 
was far from averting or resenting.” 

That is so like you, Le Gardeur 1 ” replied she, ‘‘ to 
take before it is given 1” She stopped — ‘‘ What was I going 
to say ? ” added she. ‘‘ It was given ! and my contentment 
is perfect to have you here by my side 1 ” If her thoughts 
reverted at this moftient to the Intendant, it was with a 
feeling of repulsion ; and as she looked fondly on the face 
of Le Gardeur, she could not help contrasting his hand- 
some looks with the hard, swarthy features of Bigot. 

I wish 7ny contentment were perfect, Angelique ; but 
it is in your power to make it so — ^^\dll you ? Why keep me 
forever on the threshold of my happiness or of my des- 
pair whichever you shall decree ? I have spoken to Amelie 
to-night of you ! ” 

‘‘ Oh, do not press me, Le Gardeur,” exclaimed she, 
violently agitated, anxious to evade the question she saw 
burning on his lips and distrustful of her own power to 
refuse, “ not now! not to-night ! another day, you shall know 
how much I love you, Le Gardeur ! Why will not men con- 
tent themselves with knowing we love them, without strip- 
ping our favors of all grace by making them duties ? and 
in the end, destroying our love by marrying us ? ” A flash 
of her natural archness came over her face as she said 
this. 

“ That would not be your case nor mine, Angelique,” 


SEALS OF LOVE, BUT SEAUD IN VAIN. 


247 


replied he, somewhat puzzled at her strange speech. But 
she rose up suddenly without replying, and walked to a 
buffet, where stood a silver salver full of refreshments. “ I 
suppose you have feasted so magnificently at Belmont that 
you will not care for my humble hospitalities,” said she, 
offering him a cup of rare wine, a recent gift of the Intend- 
ant, which she did not mention however. “ You have not 
told me a word yet, of the grand party at Belmont ! Pierre 
Philibert has been highly honored by the Honnetes gens, I 
am sure ! ” 

“ And merits all the honor he receives ! why were you 
not there too, Angelique ? Pierre would have been delight- 
ed,” replied he, ever ready to defend Pierre Philibert. 

‘‘ And I too ! but I feared to be disloyal to the Frip- 
onne ! ” said she, half mockingly. I am a partner in the 
Grand Company, you know, Le Gardeur ! But I confess 
Pierre Philibert is the handsomest man — except one, in 
New France. I own to that. I thought to pique Amelie 
one day, by telling her so, but on the contrary, I pleased 
her beyond measure ! She agreed without excepting even 
the one !” 

Amelie told me your good opinions of JPierre, and I 
thanked you for it ! ” said he, taking her hand ‘‘ And now, 
darling, since you cannot with wine, words nor winsomeness 
divert me from my purpose in .making you declare what 
you think of me also, let me tell you I have promised 
Amelie to bring her your answer to-night ! ” 

The eyes of Le Gardeur shone with a light of loyal 
affection. Angelique saw there was no escaping a declara- 
tion. She sat irresolute and trembling, with one hand 
resting on his arm and the other held up, deprecatingly. It 
was a piece of acting she had rehearsed to herself for 
this foreseen occasion. But her tongue, usually so nimble 
and free, faltered for once in the rush of emotions that 
well nigh overpowered her. To become the honored wife 
of Le Gardeur de Repentigny, the sister of the beauteous 
Amelie, the niece of the noble Lady de Tilly, was a piece 
of fortune to have satisfied until recently, both her heart 
and her ambition ! But now Angelique was the dupe of 
dreams and fancies. The Royal Intendant was at her 
feet. France and its courtly splendors and court intrigues 
opened vistas of grandeur to her aspiring and unscrupu- 
lous ambition. She could not forego them, and would not ! 


248 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


She knew that., all the time her heart was melting beneath 
the passionate eyes of Le Gardeur. 

“ I have spoken to Amelie and promised to take her your 
answer to-night,’’ said he in a tone that thrilled every fibre 
of her better nature. “ She is ready to embrace you as 
her sister. Will you be my wife, Angelique ? ” 

Angelique sat silent ; she dared not look up at him. 
If she had, she knew her hard resolution would melt. She 
felt his gaze upon her, without seeing it. She grew pale 
and tried to answer, no ? but could not, and she would not 
answer, yes ! 

Had Angelique looked up for one moment in those 
loving eyes of his which of all the world possessed a man’s 
power over her, all might have ended in kisses and tears of 
joy, and this tragical history had had no foundation. 

But it was not to be ! She did not look up, but her 
averted eyes fell down upon the glowing hearth. The vis- 
ion she had so wickedly revelled in, flashed again upon her 
at this supreme moment. She saw in a panorama of a few 
seconds, the gilded halls of Versailles pass before her, and 
with the vision came the old temptation. Wicked imagin- 
ings once a-dmitted as guests, enter afterwards unbidden. 
They sit down familiarly on our hearths as masters in our 
house, making us their slaves for ever. 

‘‘ Angelique ! ” repeated he, in a tone full of pas- 
sionate entreaty, will you be my wife, loved as no wo- 
man ever was ; loved as alone Le Gardeur de Repentigny 
can love you ? ” 

She knew that. As she weakened under his pleading, 
and grasped both his hands tight in hers, she strove to 
frame a reply which should say yes while it meant no, 
and say no which he should interpret yes. 

All New France will honor you as the Chatelaine de 
Repentigny ! There will be none higher, as there will be 
none fairer than my bride — ! ” Poor Le Gardeur ! He had 
a dim suspicion that Angelique was looking to France as a 
fitting theatre for her beauty and talents. 

She still sat mute, and grew paler every moment. Words 
formed themselves upon her lips, but she feared to say 
them, so terrible was the earnestness of this man’s love, 
and no less vivid the consciousness of her own. Her face 
assumed the hardness of marble, pale as Parian and as 
rigid j a trembling of her white lips showed the strife going 


SEALS OF LOVE BUT SEAED IN VAIN. 


249 


on within her, she covered her eyes with her hand, that he 
might not see the tears she felt quivering under the full 
lids, but she remained mute. 

Angelique ! ’’ exclaimed he, divining her unexpressed 
refusal; “ why do you turn away from me ? You surely 
do not reject me ? But I am mad to think it ! Speak, dar- 
ling ! One word, one sign, one look from those dear eyes, 
in consent to be the wife of Le Gardeur, will bring life’s 
happiness to us both ! ” He took her hand, and drew it 
gently from her eyes and kissed it, but she still averted 
her gaze from him ; she could not look at him ; but the 
words dropped slowly and feebly, from her lips in response 
to his appeal : — 

“ I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not marry you ! ” 
said she. She could not utter more, but her hand grasped 
his with a fierce pressure, as if wanting to hold him fast, in 
the very moment of refusal. 

He started back, as if touched by fire. ‘‘You love me, 
but will not marry me ! Angelique ! what mystery is 
this ? But you are only trying me ! A thousand thanks for 
your love ; the other is but a jest ! — a good jest, which I will 
laugh at ! ” And Le Gardeur tried to laugh, but it was a 
sad failure, for he saw she did not join in his effort at mer- 
riment, but looked pale and trembling, as if ready to 
faint. 

She laid her hands upon his heavily and sadly. He 
felt her refusal in the very touch. It was like cold lead. 
“ Do not laugh, Le Gardeur^ I cannot laugh over it; this is 
no jest, but mortal earnest ! What I say I mean ! I love 
you, Le Gardeur^ but I will not marry you ! ” 

She drew her hands away, as if to mark the emphasis 
she could not speak. He felt it like the drawing of his 
heart strings. 

She turned her eyes full upon him now, as if to look 
whether love of her was extinguished in him by her refusal. 
“ I love you, Le Gardeur, — you know I do ! But I will not 
— I cannot — marry you, now ! ” repeated she. 

“ Now ! ” he caught at the straw like a drowning swim- 
mer in a whirlpool. “Now? I said not now! but when 
you please, Angelique 1 You are worth a man’s waiting his 
life for 1 ” 

“ No ! Le Gardeur,” she replied, “ I am not worth your 
waiting for ; it cannot be, as I once hoped it might be ; but 


THE CHIENHOR. 


250 

love you I do and ever shall ! ’’ and the false, fair woman 
kissed him fatuously. ‘‘I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will 
not marry you ! 

“You do not surely mean it, Angelique exclaimed he; 
you will not give me death instead of life ? You cannot be 
so false to your own heart, so cruel to mine ? See, Angeli- 
que ! My saintly sister Amelie believed in your love, and 
sent these flowers to place in your hair when you had con- 
sented to be my wife, her sister ; you will not refuse them, 
Angelique ^ 

He raised his hand to place the garland upon her head, 
but Angelique turned quickly, and they fell at her feet. 

“ Amelie’s gifts are not for me, Le Gardeur ! I do not merit 
them ! I confess my fault ; I am, I know, false to my own 
heart, and cruel to yours. Despise me, — kill me for it if you 
will, Le Gardeur ! better you did kill me, perhaps ! but I 
cannot lie to you, as I can to other men ! Ask me not to 
change my resolution, for I neither can nor will.’' She 
spoke with impassioned energy, as if fortifying her refusal 
by the reiteration of it. 

“ It is past comprehension ! ” was all he could say, be- 
wildered at her words, thus dislocated from all their natural 
sequence of association. “ Love me and not marry me ! 
That means she will marry another ! ” thought he, with a 
jealous pang. “ Tell me, Angelique ! ” continued he, after 
several moments of puzzled silence, “is there some inscrut- 
able reason that makes you keep my love and reject my 
hand?” 

“ No reason, Le Gardeur ! It is mad unreason, — I feel 
that — but it is no less true. I love you, but I will not ' 
marry you ! ” She spoke with more resolution now. The 
first plunge was over, and, with it, her fear and trembling 
as she sat on the brink. 

The iteration drove him beside himself. He seized her 
hands, and exclaimed with vehemence : “ There is a man — 
a rival — a more fortunate lover — behind all this, Angelique 
des Meloises ! It is not yourself that speaks, but one that 
prompts you. You have given your love to another, and 
discarded me ! Is it not so ? ” 

“ I have neither discarded you nor loved another ! ” 
Angelique equivocated. She played her soul away at this 
moment with the mental reservation that she had not yet 
done, what she had resolved to do upon the first oppor- 
tunity, — accept the hand of the Intendant Bigot. 


SEALS OF LOVE BUT SEAUD LN VAIN. 


251 


‘‘ It is well for that other man, if there be one ! ” Le 
Gardeur rose and walked angrily across the room, two or 
three times. Angelique was playing a game of chess with 
Satan for her soul, and felt she was losing it. 

“ There was a sphinx in olden times,’’ said he, that 
propounded a riddle, and he who failed to solve it had to 
die ! Your riddle will be the death of me, for I cannot 
solve it, Angelique ! ” 

Do not try to solve it, dear Le Gardeur ! Remember 
that when her riddle was solved, the sphinx threw herself 
into the sea. I doubt that may be my fate ! But you are 
still my friend, Le Gardeur ! ” added she, seating herself 
again by his side, in her old fond coquettish manner. 

See these flowers of Amelie’s, which I did not place in 
my hair ; I treasure them in my bosom ! ” She gathered 
them up as she spoke, kissed them, and placed them in her 
bosom. “ You are still my friend, Le Gardeur } ” Her 
eyes turned upon him with the old look she could so well 
assume. 

‘‘ I am more than a thousand friends, Angelique, ! ” 
replied he ; “but I shall curse myself that I can remain so, 
and see you the wife of another 1 ” 

The very thought drove him to frenzy. He dashed her 
hand away, and sprang up towards the door, but turned 
suddenly round. “That curse was not for you, Ange- 
lique ! ” said he, pale and agitated ; “ it was for myself, 
for ever believing in the empty love you professed for me. 
Good bye ! Be happy ! As for me, the light goes out of 
my life, Angelique, from this day forth.” 

“ Oh stop, stop, Le Gardeur ! do not leave me so ! ” 
She rose and endeavored to restrain him, but he broke 
from her, and, without adieu or further parley, rushed out 
bareheaded into the street. She ran to the balcony to call 
him back, and, leaning far over it, cried out : “ Le Gardeur ! 
Le Gardeur ! ” That voice would have called him from 
the dead, could he have heard it. But he was already lost 
in the darkness. A few rapid steps resounded on the dis- 
tant pavement, and Le Gardeur de Repentigny was lost to 
her for ever ! 

She waited long on the balcony, looking over it for a 
chance of hearing his returning steps ; but none came. It 
was the last impulse of her love to save her, but it was 
useless. “ O God ! ” she exclaimed, in a voice of mortal 


252 


THE CHIEN U OR, 


agony, he is gone for ever — my Le Gardeur ! my one true 
lover, rejected by my own madness ; and for what ? ” She 
thought for what ? and in a storm of passion, tearing her 
golden hair over her face, and beating her breast in her 
rage, she exclaimed : I am wicked, unutterably bad, worse 
and more despicable than the vilest creature that crouches 
under the bushes on the battiire I How dared I, unwomanly 
that I am, reject the hand I worship, for sake of a hand I 
should loathe in the very act of accepting it ? The slave 
that is sold in the market is better than I, for she has no 
choice \ while I sell myself to a man whom I already hate, 
for he is already false to me ! The wages of a harlot 
were more honestly earned than the splendor for which I 
barter soul and body to this Intendant ! 

The passionate girl threw herself upon the floor, nor 
heeded the blood that oozed from her head, bruised on the 
hard wood. Her mind was torn by a thousand wild fan- 
cies. Sometimes she resolved to go out like the Rose of 
Sharon and seek her beloved in the city, and throw herself 
at his feet, making him a royal gift of all he claimed of 
her. 

She little knew her own wilful heart. She had seen 
the world bow to every caprice of hers, but she never had 
one principle to guide her, except her own pleasure. She 
was now like a goddess of earth, fallen in an effort to 
reconcile impossibilities in human hearts, and became the 
sport of the powers of wickedness. 

She lay upon the floor, senseless : her hands in a violent 
clasp. Her glorious hair, torn and disordered, lay over her 
like the royal robe of a queen stricken from her throne, and 
lying dead upon the floor of her palace. 

It was long after midnight, in the cold hours of the 
morning, when she woke from her swoon. She raised her- 
self feebly upon her elbow, and looked dazedly up at the 
cold, unfeeling stars, that go on shining through the ages, 
making no sign of sympathy with human griefs. Perseus 
had risen to his meridian, and Algol, her natal star, al- 
ternately darkened and brightened, as if it were the scene 
of some fierce conflict of the powers of light and darkness, 
like that going on in her own soul. 

Her face was stained with hard clots of blood, as she 
rose, cramped and chilled to the bone. The night air had 
blown coldly upon her through the open lattice ; but she 


THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR. 253 

would not summon her maid to her assistance. Without 
undressing she threw herself upon a couch, and, utterly 
worn out by the agitation she had undergone, slept far into 
the day. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR. 

Le Gardeur plunged headlong down the silent street, 
neither knowing nor caring whither. Half mad with grief, 
half with resentment, he vented curses upon himself, upon 
Angelique, upon the w^orld, and looked upon Providence 
itself as in league with the evil powers to thwart his happi- 
ness — not seeing that his happiness in the love of a womain 
like Angelique was a house built on sand, which the 
first storm of life would sweep away. 

‘‘ Holla ! Le Gardeur de Repentigny ! is that you ? ’’ ex- 
claimed a voice in the night. What lucky wind blows 
you out at this hour ? ’’ Le Gardeur stopped and recog- 
nized the Chevalier de Pean. ' “ Where are you going in 
such a desperate hurry ? ” 

“ To the devil ! ’’ replied Le Gardeur, withdrawing his 
hand from De Pean’s, who had seized it with an amazing 
show of friendship. It is the only road left open to me, 
and I am going to march down it like di- garde du corps of 
Satan ! Do not hold me, De Pean ! Let go my arm ! 
I am going to the devil, I tell you ! ” 

“ Why, Le Gardeur,’’ was the reply, that is a broad 
and well travelled road — the king’s highway, in fact. I 
am going upon it myself, as fast and merrily as any man 
in New France.” 

“ Well, go on it, then ! March either before or after 
me ; only don’t go with me, De Pean ! I am taking the 
shortest cuts to get to the end of it, and want no one with 
me ” Le Gardeur walked doggedly on ; but De Pean 
would not be shook off. He suspected what had happened. 

“The shortest cut I know is by the Taverne de 
Menut, where I am going now,” said he, “and I should 
like your company, Le Gardeur 1 Our set are having a 


254 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


gala night of it, and must be musical as .the frogs of Beau^ 
port by this hour ! Come along ! ’’ De Pean again took 
his arm. He was not repelled this time. 

‘‘ I don’t care where I go, De Pean ! ” replied he, for- 
getting his dislike to this man, and submitting to his guid- 
ance. The Taverne de Menut was just the place for him 
to rush into, and drown his disappointment in wine. The 
two moved on in silence for a few minutes. 

Why, what ails you, Le Gardeur ! ” asked his com- 
panion, as they walked on arm in arm. ‘‘ Has fortune 
.frowned upon the cards ? or your mistress proved a fickle 
jade, like all her sex ? ” 

His words were irritating enough to Le Gardeur. “ Look 
you, De Pean,” said he, stopping, “ I shall quarrel with 
you if you repeat such remarks. But you mean no mis- 
chief, I dare say, although I would not swear it I ” Le 
Gardeur looked savagely. 

De Pean saw it would not be safe to rub that sore 
again. ‘‘ Forgive me, Le Gardeur ! ” said he, with an air 
of sympathy, well assumed. ‘‘ I meant no harm. But you 
are suspicious of your friends to-night, as a Turk of his 
harem.” 

I have reason to be ! and as for friends, I find only 
such friends as you, De Pean ! And I begin to think the 
world has no better ! ” The clock of the Recollets struck 
the hour as they passed under the shadow of its wall. The 
brothers of St. Francis slept quietly on their peaceful pil 
lows, like sea birds who find in a rocky nook a refuge from 
the ocean storms. Do you think the Recollets are hap- 
py, De Pean ? ” asked he, turning abruptly to his compan- 
ion. 

‘‘ Happy as oysters at high water, who are never crossed 
in love except of their dinner ! But that is neither your 
luck nor mine, Le Gardeur ! ” De Pean was itching to 
draw from his companion something with reference to what 
had passed with Angdlique. 

“ Well, I would rather be an oyster than a man, and 
rather be dead than either ! ” was the reply of Le Gardeur. 
“ How soon, think you, will brandy kill a man, De Pean } ” 
asked he, abruptly after a pause of silence. 

‘‘ It will never kill you, Le Gardeur, if you take it neat 
at Master Menut’s. It will restore you to life, vigor and 
independence of man and woman. I take mine there 


THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR. 


255 

when I am hipped as you are, Le Gardeur. It is a specific 
for every kind of ill fortune — I warrant it will cure and 
never kill you.” 

They crossed the Place d’Armes. Nothing in sight was 
moving except the sentries who paced slowly like shadows 
up and down the great gateway of the Castle of St. Louis. 

“ It is still and solemn as a church-yard here,” remarked 
De Pean ; “ all the life of the place is down at Menut’s ! 
I like the small hours,” added he as the chime of the 
Recollets ceased. ‘‘ They are easily counted and pass 
quickly, asleep or awake. Two o’clock in the morning is 
the meridian of the day for a man who has wit to wait for 
it at Menut’s !' these small hours are all that are worth 
reckoning in a man’s life. ! ” 

Without consenting to accompany De Pean, Le Gar- 
deur suffered himself to be led by him. He knew the com- 
pany that awaited him there — the wildest and most disso- 
lute gallants of the city and garrison were usually assem- 
bled there at this hour. 

The famous old hostelry was kept by Master Menut, a 
burly Breton, who prided himself on keeping everything 
full and plenty about his house — tables full, tankards full, 
guests full and himself very full. The house was to-night 
lit up with unusual brilliance, and was full of company — 
Cadet, Varin, Mercier, and a crowd of the friends and asso- 
ciates of the Grand Company. Gambling, drinking and 
conversing in the loudest strain on such topics as interested 
their class, were the amusements of the night. The vilest 
thoughts uttered in the low Argot of Paris were much affected 
by them. They felt a pleasure in this sort of protest 
against the extreme refinement of society, just as the 
Collegians of Oxford, trained beyond their natural capacity 
in morals, love to fall into slang, and like Prince Hal, talk 
to every tinker in his own tongue. 

De Pean and Le Gardeur were welcomed with open 
arms at the Taverne de Menut. A dozen brimming glasses 
were offered them on every side. De Pean drank mod- 
erately. ‘‘ I have to win back my losses of last night,” 
said he, and must keep my head clear.” Le Gardeur, how- 
ever, refused nothing that was offered him. He drank with 
all, and drank every description of liquor. He was 
speedily led up into a large, well-furnished room, where 
tables were crowded with gentlemen playing cards and 


THE CHIEND'OR. 


256 

dice for piles of paper money which was tossed from hand 
to hand, with the greatest nonchalance as the game ended 
and was renewed. 

Le Gardeur plunged headlong into the flood of dissipa- 
tion. He played, drank, talked argot and cast off every 
shred of reserve. He doubled his stakes and threw his 
dice reckless and careless whether he lost or won. His 
voice overbore that of the stoutest of the revellers. He 
embraced De Pean as his friend, who returned his compli- 
ments by declaring Le Gardeur de Repentigny to be the 
king of good fellows, “ who had the strongest head to carry 
wine and the stoutest heart to defy dull care of any man 
in Quebec.’’ 

De Pean watched with malign satisfaction the progress 
of Le Gardeur’s intoxication. If he seemed to flag, he 
challenged him afresh to drink to better fortune ; and 
when he lost the stakes, to drink again to spite ill luck. 

But let a veil be dropped over the wild doings of the 
Taverne de Menut. Le Gardeur lay insensible at last 
upon the floor, where he would have remained had not 
some of the servants of the inn who knew him lifted him 
up compassionately, and placed him upon a couch, where 
he lay, breathing heavily like one dying. His eyes 
were fixed ; his mouth, where the kisses of his sister still 
lingered, was partly opened, and his hands were clenched, 
rigid as a statue’s. 

He is ours now, ! ” said De Pean to Cadet. He will 
not again put his head under the wing of the Philiberts ! ” 

The two men looked at him, and laughed brutally. 

A fair lady whom you know. Cadet, has given him 
liberty to drink himself to death, and he will do it.” 

“ Who is that ? Angelique ? ” asked Cadet. 

‘‘ Of course ; who else } and Le Gardeur won’t be the 
first or last man she has put under stone sheets,” replied 
De Pean, with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“ Gloria patri, filioque^^ exclaimed Cadet, mockingly. 

The hoiinetes gens will lose their trump card. How did 
you get him away from Belmont, De Pean ? ” 

“ Oh, it was not I ; Angelique des Meloises .set the 
trap and whistled the call that brought him,” replied De 
Pean. 

‘‘ Like her, the incomparable witch ! ” exclaimed Cadet, 
with a hearty laugh. ‘‘ She would lure the very devil to 


THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR. 


257 

play her tricks instead of his own. She would beat Satan 
at his best game to ruin a man.’^ 

It would be all the same, Cadet, I fancy — Satan or 
she ! But where is Bigot ? I expected him here. 

Oh, he is in a tantrum to-night, and would not come. 
That piece of his at Beaumahoir is a thorn in his flesh, and 
a snow-ball on his spirits. She is taming him ! By St. 
Cocufin ! Bigot loves that w^oman ! ” 

‘‘ I told you that before. Cadet ; I saw it a month ago, 
and was sure of it on that night when he would not bring 
her up to show her to us. 

‘‘ Such a fool, De Bean, to care for any woman ! What 
will Bigot do with her, think you 

‘‘ How should I know } Send her adrift sohie fine day, 
I suppose, down the Riviere du Loup. He wall, if he is a 
sensible man. He dare not marry any woman without 
license from La Pompadour, you know. The jolly fish- 
woman holds a tight rein over her favorites. Bigot may 
keep as many w^omen as Solomon — the more the merrier ; 
but woe befalls him if he marries without La Pompadour’s 
consent. ! They say she dotes herself on Bigot ; that is the 
reason.” De Pean really believed that was the reason ; 
and certainly there was reason for suspecting it. 

Cadet ! Cadet ! ” exclaimed several voices. ‘‘ You 
are fined a basket of champagne for leaving the table.” 

“ I’ll pay it,” replied he, “ and double it ; but it is hot 
as Tartarus in here. I feel like a grilled salmon.” And, 
indeed. Cadet’s broad, sensual face was red and glowing as 
a harvest moon. He walked a little unsteady, too, and 
his naturally coarse voice sounded thick, but his hard 
brain never gave way beyond a certain point under any 
quantity of liquor. 

“ I am going to get some fresh air,” said he. ‘‘ I shall 
walk as far as the Fleur-de-Lys. They never go to bed at 
that jolly old inn.” 

‘‘ I will go with you ! ” ‘‘ And I ! ” exclaimed a dozen 

voices. 

‘‘ Come on, then ; w^e will all go to the old dog-hole, 
where they keep the best brandy in Quebec. It is smug- 
gled, of course ; but that makes it all the better.” 

Mine host of the Taverne de Menut combatted this 
opinion of the goodness of the liquors at the Fleur de Lys. 

His brandy had paid the king’s duties, and bore the 
^7 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


258 

stamp of the Grand Company,” he said ; and he ap^ 
pealed to every gentleman present on the goodness of his 
liqifors. 

Cadet and the rest took another round of it to please 
the landlord, and sallied out with no little noise and con- 
fusion. Some of them struct up the famous song, which 
beyond all others, best expressed the gay, rollicking spirit 
of the French nation and of the times of the old regime \ — 

Vive Henri Quatre ! 

Vive le Roi vaillant ! 

Ce diable a quatre, 

A le triple talent, 

De boire et de battre, 

Et d’ etre un vert galant ! 

When the noisy party arrived at the Fleur de Lys, they 
entered without ceremony into a spacious room — low, with 
heavy beams, and with roughly plastered walls, which were 
stuck over with proclamations of Governors and In ten 
dants and dingy ballads brought by sailors from French 
ports. 

A long table in the middle of the room was surrounded 
by a lot of fellows, plainly of the baser sort — sailors, boat- 
men, voyageurs — in rough clothes, and tuques red or blue, 
upon their heads. Every one had a pipe in his mouth. 
Some were talking with loose, loquacious tongues ; some 
were singing ; their ugly, jolly visages — half illumined 
by the light of tallow candles, stuck in iron sconces on the 
wall — were worthy of the vulgar, but faithful Dutch pencils 
of Schalken and Teniers. They were singing a song as 
the new company came in. 

At the head of the table sat Master Pothier, with a 
black earthen mug of Norman cider in one hand and a pipe 
in the other. His budget of law hung on a peg in the 
corner, as quite superfluous at a free-and-easy at the Fleur 
de Lys. 

Max Grimeau and blind Bartemy had arrived in good 
time for the eel-pie. They sat one on each side of Master 
Pothier, full as ticks, and merry as grigs ; a jolly song was 
in progress as Cadet entered. 

The company rose and bowed to the gentlemen who 
had honored them with a call. Pray sit down, gentle- 
men, take our chairs ! ” exclaimed Master Pothier, oflici- 


THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR, 


259 


ously offering his to Cadet, who accepted it, as well as 
the black mug, of which he drank heartily, declaring “ old 
Norman cider suited his taste better than the choicest 
wine.’’ 

“ We are your most humble servitors, and highly esteem 
the honor of your visit,” said Master Pothier, as he refilled 
the black mug. 

‘‘Jolly fellows! ” replied Cadet, stretching his legs 
refreshingly, “ this does look comfortable. ” Do you 
drink cider because you like it or because you cannot 
afford better?” 

“There is nothing better than Norman cider, except 
Cognac brandy,” replied Master Pothier, grinning from 
ear to ear. “ Norman cider is fit for a king, and with a 
lining of brandy is drink for a Pope! It will make a man 
see stars at noonday. Won’t it, Bartemy ? ” 

“ What ! old turn-penny ! are you here ? ” cried Cadet, 
recognizing the old beggar of the gate of the Basse 
Ville. 

“ O yes, your honor !” replied Bartemy, with his pro- 
fessional whine, pour V amour de Dieu !” 

“ Gad ! you are the jolliest beggar I know out of the 
Friponne,” replied Cadet throwing him an ecu. 

“ He is not a jollier beggar than I am, your honor,” 
said Max Crimean, grinning like an Alsatian over a 
Strasbourg pie. “ It was I sang bass in the ballad, as you 
came in, you might have heard me, your honor ? ” 

“ To be sure I did, I will be sworn there is not a jollier 
beggar in Quebec than you, old Max ! Here is an 'ecu for 
you too, to drink the Intendant’s health, and another for 
you, you roving limb of the law. Master Pothier ! Come 
Master Pothier ! I will fill your ragged gown full as a 
demijohn of brandy if you will go on with the song you 
were singing.” 

“ We were at the old ballad of the Pont (PAvig7ton^ your 
honor,” replied Master Pothier. 

“ And I was playing it,” interrupted Jean La Marche, 
“ you might have heard my violin, it is a good one. ! ” Jean 
would not hide his talent in a napkin on so auspicious an 
occasion as this. He ran his bow over the strings, and 
played a few bars, — “ that was the tune, your honor.” 

“ Aye, that was it ! I know the jolly old song ! now go 
on ! ” Cadet thrust his thumbs into the armholes of his 


26 o 


THE CHIEN H OR 


laced waistcoat and listened attentively. Rough as he was^ 
he liked the old Canadian music. 

Jean tuned his fiddle afresh, and placing it with a know- 
ing jerk under his chin, and with an air of conceit worthy 
of Lulli, began to sing and play the old ballad: 

A St. Malo, beau port de mer, 

Trois navires sont arrive’s, 

Charges d’avoine, charges de bled ; 

Trois dames s’en vont les marchander !’^ 

“Tut!’’ exclaimed Varin, “who cares for things that 
have no more point in them than a dumpling I give us a 
madrigal, or one of the devil’s ditties from the quartier 
Latin ! ” 

“ I do not know a “devil’s ditty,” and would not sing one 
if I did,” replied Jean La Marche, jealous of the ballads 
of his own New France. “Indians cannot swear because 
they know no oaths, and hahitans cannot sing devil’s 
ditties because they never learned them, but “ St Malo, 
beau port de mer,” I will sing that, with any man in the 
Colony I ” 

The popular songs of the French Canadians are simple, 
almost infantine in their language, and as chaste in ex- 
pression as the hymns of other countries. Impure songs 
originate in classes who know better, and revel from choice 
in musical slang and indecency. 

“ Sing what you like I ” and never mind Varin, my good 
fellow,” said Cadet, stretching himself in his chair, “I 
like the old Canadian ballads better than all the devil’s 
ditties ever made in Paris ! you must sing your devil’s 
ditties yourself, Varin, om hahitans won’t, that is sure! ” 

After an hour’s roystering at the Fleur de Lys the party of 
gentlemen returned to the Taverne de Menut, a good deal 
more unsteady and more obstreperous than when they 
came. They left Master Pothier seated in his chair, 
drunk as Bacchus, and every one of the rest of his com- 
panions blind as Bartemy. 

The gentlemen on their return to the Taverne de 
Menut, found De Pean in a rage. Pierre Philibert had 
followed Amelie to the city, and learning the cause of her 
anxiety and unconcealed tears, started off with the deters 
mination to find Le Gardeur. 

The officer of the guard at the gate of the Basse Ville, 


THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR, 261 

was able to direct him to the right quarter. He hastened 
to the Taverne de Menut, a’nd in haughty defiance of De 
Pean, with whom he had high words, he got the unfortun- 
ate Le Gardeur away, placed him in a carriage, and took 
him home, receiving from Amelie such sweet and sincere 
thanks as he thought a life’s service could scarcely have 
deserved. 

‘‘ Har Dieii ! that Philibert is a game-cock, De Pean,” 
exclaimed Cadet, to the savage annoyance of the Secretary. 
“ He has pluck and impudence for ten gardes du corps. It 
was neater done than at Beaumanoir ! ” Cadet sat down 
to enjoy a broad laugh at the expense of his friend over 
the second carrying off of Le Gardeur. 

“ Curse him ! I could have run him through, and am 
sorry I did not,” exclaimed De Pean. 

“ No, you could not have run him through, and you 
would have been sorry had you tried it, De Pean,” replied 
Cadet, “ that Philibert is not as safe as the bank of France to 
draw upon. I tell you it was well for yourself you did 
not try, De Pean.” But never mind,” continued Cadet, 
there is never so bad a day but there is a fair to-morrow 
after it, so make up a hand at cards with me and Colonel 
Trivio, and put money in your purse, it will salve your 
bruised feelings.” De Pean failed to laugh off his ill- 
humor, but he took Cadet’s advice and sat down to play 
for the remainder of the night. 

Oh, Pierre Philibert ! how can we sufficiently thank 
you for your kindness to my dear, unhappy brother ” said 
Amelie to him, her eyes tremulous with tears and her 
hand convulsively clasping his, as Pierre took leave of her 
at the door of the mansion of the Lady de Tilly. 

‘‘ Le Gardeur claims our deepest commiseration, Ame- 
lie,” replied he ; ‘‘ you know how this has happened ? ” 

I do know, Pierre, and shame to know it. But you 
are so generous ever. Do not blame me for this agita- 
tion ! ” She strove to steady herself, as a ship will right 
up for a moment in veering. 

“ Blame you ? what a thought ! As soon blame the 
angels for being good ! But I have a plan, Amelie, for Le 
Gardeur. We must get him out of the city and back to 
Tilly for awhile. Your noble aunt has given me an invita- 
tion to visit the Manor House. What if I manage to 
accompany Le Gardeur to his dear old home ? 


262 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


“ A visit to Tilly in your company would, of all things, 
delight Le Gardeur,’’ said she ; “and perhaps break those 
ties that bind him to the city.” 

These were pleasing words to Philibert, and he thought 
how delightful would be her own fair presence also at 
Tilly. 

“ All the physicians in the world will not help Le Gar- 
deur as will your company at Tilly ! ” exclaimed she, with 
a sudden access of hope. “ Le Gardeur needs not 
medicine, only care, and — ” 

“The love he has set his heart on, Amelie ! Men 
sometimes die when they fail in that.” He looked at her 
as he said this, but instantly withdrew his eyes, fearing he 
had been over bold. 

She blushed, and only replied with absolute indirec- 
tion : “ Oh, I am so thankful to you, Pierre Philibert ! ” 
But she gave him, as he left, a look of gratitude and love 
which never effaced itself from his memory. In after 
years, when Pierre Philibert cared not for the light of the 
sun, nor for woman’s love, nor for life itself, the tender, 
impassioned glance of those dark eyes wet with tears 
came back to him like a break in the dark clouds, disclos- 
ing the blue heaven beyond ; and he longed to be there. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

BETWEEN THE LATEST VIOLET AND THE EARLIEST ROSE. 

“ Do not go out to-day, brother, I want you so particu- 
larly to stay with me to-day,” said Amelie de Repentigny, 
with a gentle, pleading voice. “Aunt has resolved to re- 
turn to Tilly to-morrow ; I need your help to arrange these 
papers ; and any way I want your company, brother,” added 
she, smiling. 

Le Gardeur ’sat feverish, nervous and ill after his wild 
night spent at the Tavern de Menut. He started and red- 
dened as his sister’s eyes rested on him. He looked 
through the open window like a wild animal, ready to spring 
out of it and escape. 


BETWEEN THE LATEST VIOLET, E TCT 263 

A raging thirst was on him, which Amelie sought to 
assuage by draughts of water, milk and tea — a sisterly 
attention which he more than once acknowledged by kiss- 
ing the loving fingers which waited upon him so tenderly. 

“ I cannot stay in the house, Amelie,’’ said he ; ‘‘I 
shall go mad if I do ! You know how it has fared with 
me, sweet sister ! I yesterday built up a tower of glass, 
high as heaven — my heaven : a woman’s love. To-day I am 
crushed under the ruins of it. 

‘‘ Say not so, brother ! you were not made to be crushed 
by the nay of any faithless woman. Oh, why will men think 
more of our sex than we deserve How few of us do deserve 
the devotion of a good and true man ! ” 

‘‘ How few men would be worthy of you, sweet sister !” 
replied he proudly. “ Ah ! had Angelique had your heart, 
Amelie ! ” 

“ You will be glad one day of your present sorrow, 
brother,” replied she. “ It is bitter, I know, and I feel its 
bitterness with you ; but life with Angelique would have 
been infinitely harder to bear.” 

He shook his head, not incredulously but defiantly at 
fate. ‘‘ I would have accepted it,” said he, “ had I been sure 
life with her had been hard as millstones ! My love is of 
the perverse kind, not to be transmuted by any furnace of 
fiery trial.” 

‘‘ I have no answer, brother, but this,” and Amelie 
stooped and kissed his fevered forehead. She was too 
wise to reason in a case where she knew reason always 
made default. 

“ What has happened at the Manor House ? ” asked he, 
after a short silence. “ That aunt is going to return home 
sooner than she expected when she left.” 

“ There are reports to-day of Iroquois on the upper 
Chaudiere, and her censitaires are eager to return to guard 
their homes from the prowling savages ; and what is more, 
you and Colonel Philibert are ordered to go to Tilly, to 
look after the defence of the Seigneurie.” 

Le Gardeur sat bolt upright. His military knowledge 
could not comprehend an apparently useless order. ‘‘ Pierre 
Philibert and I ordered to Tilly to look after the defence 
of the Seigneurie ! We had no information yesterday that 
Iroquois were within fifty leagues of Tilly. It is a false 
rumor, raised by the good wive^to get their husbands 


THE CHIEN nOR, 


264 

home again ! Don’t you think so, Amelie ? ” asked he, smiling 
for the first time. 

“ No, I don’t think so, Le Gardeur ! But it would be a 
pretty ruse de guerre^ were it true ! the good wives natural- 
ly feel nervous at being left alone ; I should myself,” added 
she playfully. 

‘‘ O, I don’t know, the nervous ones have all come with 
the men to the city ; but I suppose the works are sufficiently 
advanced, and the men can be spared to return home. But 
what says Pierre Philibert to the order despatching him to 
Tilly? You have seen him since ? ” 

Amelie blushed a little, as she replied: “Yes, I have 
seen him ; he is well content, I think, to see Tilly once more 
in your company, brother.” 

“ And in yours, sister ! — Why blush, Amelie? Pierre is 
worthy of you, should he ever say to you what I so vainly 
said last night to Angelique des Meloises ! ” Le Gardeur 
held her tightly by the hand. 

Her face was glowing scarlet : she was in utter confusion. 
“Oh stop, brother ! don’t say such things ! Pierre never ut- 
tered such thoughts to me ! — never will in all likelihood ! ” 

“ But he will ! And, my darling sister, when Pierre 
Philibert shall say he loves you, and ask you to be his 
wife, if you love him, if you pity me, do not say him nay !” 
She was trembling with agitation, and without power to 
reply. But Le Gardeur felt her hand tighten upon his. He 
comprehended the involuntary sign, drew her to him, kissed 
her, and left the topic without pressing it further ; leav- 
ing it in the most formidable shape to take deep root in 
the silent meditations of Amelie. 

The rest of the day passed in such sunshine as Amelie 
could throw over her brother. Her soft influence retained 
him at home : she refreshed him with her conversation, and 
sympathy, drew from him the pitiful story of his love, and its 
bitter ending. She knew the relief of disburthening his 
surcharged heart ; and to none but his sister, from whom he 
had never had a secret until this episode in his life, would 
he have spoken a word of his heart’s trouble. 

Numerous were the visitors to-day at the hospitable 
mansion of the Lady de Tilly ; but Le Gardeur would see. 
none of them, except Pierre Philibert, who rode over a:i 
soon as he was relieved from his military attendance at 
the Castle of St. Louis. ♦ 


BETWEEN THE LATEST VIOLET, ETCT 265 

Le Gardeur received Pierre with an effusion of 
grateful affection — touching, because real. His handsome 
face, so like Amelie’s, was peculiarly so when it expressed 
the emotions habitual to her, and the pleasure both felt 
in the presence of Pierre brought out resemblances that 
flashed fresh on the quick, observant eye of Pierre. 

The afternoon was spent in conversation of that kind 
which gives and takes with mutual delight. Le Gardeur 
seemed more his old self again in the company of Pierre ; 
Amelie was charmed at the visible influence of Pierre over 
him, and a hope sprang up in her bosom, that the little 
artifice of beguiling Le Gardeur to Tilly, in the companion- 
ship of Pierre, might be the means of thwarting those ad- 
verse influences which were dragging him to destruction. 

If Pierre Philibert grew more animated in the presence 
of those bright eyes, which were at once appreciative and 
sympathizing, Amelie drank in the conversation of Pierre 
as one drinks the wine of a favorite vintage. If her 
heart grew a little intoxicated, what the wonder ? 
Furtively as she glanced . at the manly countenance of 
Pierre, she saw in it the reflection of his noble mind and 
independent spirit ; and, remembering the injunction of Le 
Gardeur — ^for, woman-like she sought a support out of 
herself to justify a foregone conclusion — she thought that 
if Pierre asked her, she could be content to share his lot, 
and her greatest happiness would be to live in the posses 
sion of his love. 

Pierre Philibert took his departure early from the 
house of the Lady de Tilly, to make his preparations for 
leaving the city next day. His father was aware of his 
project, and approved of it. 

The toils of the day were over in the house of the Chien 
D’or. The Bourgeois took his hat and sword, and went 
out for a walk upon the Cape, where a cool breeze came up 
fresh from the broad river. It was just the turn of tide. 
The full brimming waters, reflecting here and there a star, 
began to sparkle under the clear moon that rose slowly 
and majestically over the hills of the South Shore. 

The Bourgeois sat down on the low wall of the terrace 
to enjoy the freshness and beauty of the scene, which, 
although he had seen it a hundred times before, never 
looked lovelier, he thought, than this evening. He was 
very happy in his silent thoughts over his son’s return 


266 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


home ; and the general respect paid him on the day of his 
fete had been more felt, perhaps, by the Bourgeois than by 
Pierre himself. 

As he indulged in these meditations, a well-known 
voice suddenly accosted him. He turned and was cor- 
dially greeted by the Count de la Galissoniere, and Herr 
Kahn, who had sauntered through the garden of the 
Castle, and directed their steps towards the Cape, with 
intention to call upon the Lady de Tilly and pay their 
respects to her before she left the City. 

The Bourgeois learning their intentions, said he would 
accompany them, as he, too, owed a debt of courtesy to the 
noble Lady and her niece Amelie, which he would discharge 
at the same time. 

The three gentlemen walked gravely on, in pleasant 
conversation. The clearness of the moonlit night threw 
the beautiful landscape, with its strongly accentuated fea- 
tures, into contrasts of light and. shade, to which the pen- 
cil of Rembrandt alone could have done justice. Herr 
Kahn was enthusiastic in his admiration. Moonlight over 
Drachenfels on the Rhine, or the midnight sun peering 
over the Gulf of Bothnia, reminded him of something sim- 
ilar, but of nothing so grand on the whole as the matchless 
scene visible from Cape Diamond — worthy of its name. 

Lady de Tilly received her visitors with the gracious 
courtesy habitual to her. She especially appreciated the 
visit from the Bourgeois, who so rarely honored the houses 
of his friends by his welcome presence. As for his 
Excellency, she remarked, smiling, it was his official duty 
to represent the politeness of France to the ladies of the 
Colony, while Herr Kalm representing the Science of 
Europe, ought to be honored in every house he chose to 
visit. She certainly esteemed the honor of his presence in 
her own. 

Amelie made her appearance in the drawing room, and 
while the visitors stayed, exerted herself to the "utmost, to 
please and interest them by taking a ready and sympathe- 
tic part in their conversation. Her quick and cultivated 
intellect enabled her to do so to the delight and even 
surprise of the three grave learned gentlemen. She lacked 
neither information nor opinions of her own, while 
her speech, soft and \vomanly, gave a delicacy to her free 
yet modest utterances, that made her in their recollections 


“ BETWEEN' THE LATEST VIOLET, &-CT 267 

of her in the future, a standard of comparison, a measure of 
female perfections. 

Le Gardeur, learning who were in the house, came down 
after a while, to thank the Governor, the Bourgeois and 
Herr Kalm, for the honor of their visit. He exerted himself 
by a desperate effort to be conversable, not very success- 
fully however ; for had not Amelie watched him with 
deepest sympathy and adroitly filled the breaks in his 
remarks, he would have failed to pass himself creditably 
before the Governor. As it was, Le Gardeur contented 
himself with following the flow of conversation, which wel- 
led up copiously from the lips of the rest of the company. 

After a while, came in Felix Baudoin in his full livery, 
reserved for special occasions, and announced to his Lady 
that tea was served. The gentlemen were invited to partake 
of what was then a novelty in New France. The Bourgeois 
in the course of the new traffic with China, that had lately 
sprung up in consequence of the discovery of ginseng in 
New France, had imported some chests of tea which the 
Lady de Tilly with instinctive perception of its utility 
adopted at once, as the beverage of polite society. As yet 
however it was only to be seen upon the tables of the 
refined and the affluent. 

A fine service of porcelain of Chinese make, adorned 
her table, pleasing the fancy with its grotesque pictures, 
then so new, now so familiar to us all. The Chinese 
garden and summer house, the fruit-laden trees, and river 
with overhanging willow^s. The rustic bridge with the 
three long-robed figures passing over it ; the boat, floating 
upon the water and the doves flying in the perspectiveless 
sky ; who does not remember them all ? 

Lady de Tilly, like a true gentlewoman, prized her 
china, and thought kindly of the mild, industrious race, 
who had furnished her tea-table with such an elegant 
equipage. 

It was no disparagement to the Lady de Tilly,’‘that she 
had not read English poets, who sang the praise of tea. 
English poets were in those days an unknown quantity in 
French education, and especially in New France, until after 
the conquest. . But Wolfe opened the great world of JLnglish 
poetry to Canada as he recited Gray’s Elegy with its pro- 
phetic line — 


268 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” 

iis he floated down the St. Lawrence, in that still autum^ 
nal night, to land his forces and scale by stealth the fatal 
heights of Abraham, whose possession led to the conquest 
of the city and his own heroic death, then it was the two 
glorious streams of modern thought and literature united 
in New France, where they have run side by side to this 
day — in time to be united in one grand flood stream of 
Canadian literature. 

The Bourgeois Philibert had exported largely to China 
the newly discovered ginseng, for which at first the people 
of the flowery kingdom paid, in their syce silver, ounce for 
ounce. And his Cantonese correspondent esteemed him- 
self doubly fortunate when he was enabled to export his 
choicest teas to New France in exchange for the precious 
root. 

Amelie listened to an eager conversation between the 
Governor and Herr Kalm, started by the latter, on the 
nature, culture and use of the tea plant (they would be trite 
opinions now), with many daring speculations on the ulti- 
mate conquest of the tea cup over the wine cup. ‘‘ It 
would inaugurate the third beatitude ! exclaimed the phi- 
losopher, pressing together the tips of the fingers of both 
hands, “ and the ‘ meek would inherit the earth so soon 
as the use of tea, became universal — mankind would grow 
milder as their blood was purified from the fiery products 
of the still and the wine press ! The life of man would be 
prolonged and made more valuable. 

“ “ What has given China four thousand of years of exist- 

ence ? ” — asked Herr Kalm, abruptly, of the Count. 

The Count ‘fcould not tell, unless it were that the 
nation was dead already in all that regarded the higher 
life of national existence — had become mummified in fact 
— and did not know it.” 

Not at all ! ” replied Herr Kalm — It is the constant 
use of the life-giving infusion of tea, that has saved China ! 
Tea soothes the nerves, it clears the blood, expels vapors 
from the brain, and restores the fountain of life to pristine 
activity. £rgo, it prolongs the existence of both men 
and nations, and has made China the most antique nation 
in the world.” 

Herr Kalm was a devotee to the tea cup, he drank it 


^^betw£:£N the latest violet, 269 

-Strong to excite his flagging spirits, weak to quiet them 
down. He took Bohea with his facts, and Hyson with his 
fancy, and mixed them to secure the necessary afflatus to 
write his books of science and travel. Upon Hyson he 
would have attempted the Iliad, upon Bohea he would 
undertake to square the circle, discover perpetual motion, 
or reform the German philosophy. 

The professor was in a jovial mood, and gambolled 
away gracefully as a Finland horse under a pack saddle 
laden with the learning of a dozen students of Abo, travel- 
ling home for the holidays ! 

“ We are fortunate in being able to procure our tea, in 
exchange for our useless ginseng,’’ remarked the Lady de 
Tilly, as she handed tho professor a tiny plate of the 
leaves, as was the fashion of the day. After drinking the 
tea, the infused leaves were regarded as quite a fashionable 
delicacy. Except for the fashion, it had not been perhaps 
considered a delicacy, at all. 

The observation of the Lady de Tilly set the professor 
off on another branch of the subject. “ He had observed,” 
he said, “ the careless methods of preparing the ginseng in 
New France, and predicted a speedy end of the traffic, 
unless it were prepared to suit the fancy of the fastidious 
Chinese. 

That is true, Herr Kalm, ” replied the Governor, 
‘‘ but our Indians who gather it are bad managers. Our 
friend Philibert, who opened this lucrative trade is alone 
capable of ensuring its continuance. It is a mine of wealth 
to New France if rightly developed. “How much made 
you last year by ginseng, Philibert ?^” 

“ I can scarcely answer,” replied the Bourgeois, hesita- 
ting a moment to mention what might seem like egotism. 
“ But the half million I contributed towards the war in 
defence of Acadia was wholly the product of my export 
of ginseng to China.” 

“ I know it was ! and God bless you for it, Philibert ! ” 
exclaimed the Governor with emotion, as he grasped the 
hand of the patriotic merchant. 

“ If we have preserved New France this year, it was 
through your timely help in Acadia ! The king’s treasury 
was exhausted,” continued the Governor, looking at Herr 
Kalm, “ and ruin imminent, when the noble merchant of 
the Chien d’Or, fed, clothed and paid the King’s troops 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


270 

for two months before the taking of Grand Pre from the 
enemy ! 

‘‘ No great thing in that, your Excellency,” replied the 
Bourgeois, wh*o hated compliments to himself. “ If those 
who have do not give, how can you get from those who 
have not? You may lay some of it to the account of 
Pierre too. He was in Acadia, you, know, Governor.” — A 
flash of honest pride passed over the usually sedate features 
of the Bourgeois at the mention of his son. 

Le Gardeur looked at his sister. She knew instinc- 
tively, that his thoughts put into words would say, — “ he is 
worthy to be your father, Amelie ! ” She blushed with a 
secret pleasure, but spoke not. The music in her heart was 
without words, yet ; but one day it would fill the universe 
with harmony for her. 

The Governor noticed the sudden reticence, and half 
surmising the cause, remarked playfully. “The Iroquois 
will hardly dare approach Tilly with such a garrison as 
Pierre Philibert and Le Gardeur, and with you, my Lady 
de Tilly, as commandant, and you, Mademoiselle Amelie, 
as Aide de Camp ! ” 

“ To be sure ! your Excellency ! ” replied the Lady de 
Tilly. “ The women of Tilly have worn swords and kept 
the old house before now ! ” she added playfully, alluding 
to a celebrated defence of the chateau by a former lady of 
the manor at the head of a body of her censitaires. “ And 
depend upon it we shall neither give up Tilly nor Le Gar- 
deur either, to whatever savages claim him, be they red 
or white ! ” 

The Lady’s allusion to his late associates did not offend 
Le Gardeur, whose honest nature despised their conduct, 
while he liked their company. They all understood her 
and laughed. The Governor’s loyalty to the King’s com- 
mission, prevented his speaking his thoughts. He only 
remarked “ Le Gardeur and Pierre Philibert will be under 
your orders, my Lady, and my orders are that they are not 
to return to the city, until all dangers of the Iroquois are 
over ! ” 

“ All right ! your Excellency ! ” exclaimed Le Gardeur. 
“ I shall obey my aunt.” He was acute enough to see 
through their kindly scheming for his welfare. But his 
good nature and thorough devotion to his aunt and sister, 
and his affectionate friendship for Pierre, made him yield 


BETWEEN THE LATEST VIOLET, &-C: 


271 


to the project without a qualm of regret. Le Gardeur was 
assailable on many sides, a fault in his character or a 
weakness, which at any rate sometimes offered a lever to 
move him in directions opposite to the malign influences 
of Bigot and his associates. 

The company rose from the tea table, and moved to 
the drawing room, where conversation, music, and a few 
games of cards, wiled away a couple of hours, very pleas- 
antly. 

Amelie sang exquisitely. The Governor was an excel- 
lent musician and accompanied her. His voice, a powerful 
tenor, had been strengthened by many a conflict with old 
Boreas on the high seas, and made soft and flexible by his 
manifold sympathies with all that is kindly and good and 
'true in human nature. 

A song of wonderful pathos and beauty had just been 
brought down from the wilds of the Ottawa, and become 
universally sung in New France. A voyageur flying from 
a band of Iroquois, had found a hiding place on a rocky 
islet in the middle of the Sept Chutes. He concealed him- 
self from his foes, but could not escape, and in the end 
died of starvation and sleeplessness. The dying man 
peeled off the white bark of the birch, and with the juice of 
berries, wrote upon it his death song, which was found 
long after by the side of his remains. His grave is now a 
marked spot on the Ottawa. La cornplainte de Cadieux\i2i^ 
seized the imagination of Amelie. She sang it exquisitely, 
and to night needed no pressing to do so, for her heart 
was full of the new song, composed under such circum- 
stances of woe. Intense was the sympathy of the company, 
as she began. 

“ Petit Rocher de la Haute Montague, 

Je viens finir ici cette campagne ! 

Ah ! doux echos entendez mes soupirs ! 

En lan^uissant je vais bientot — moiirir.” 

There were no dry eyes as she concluded. The last 
sighs of Cadieux seemed to expire on her lips< 

Rossignolet va dire a ma maitresse, 

A mes enfans, qu’un adieu je leurs laisse, 

Que j’ai garde mon amour et ma foi, 

Et desormais faut renoncer a moi.’’ 

A few more friends of the family dropped in, Coulon 
de Villiers, Claude Beauharnois, La Come St. Luc, and 


THE CHIEN E’OE, 


272 

Others, who had heard of the lady’s departure, and came 
to bid her adieu. 

La Come raised much mirth by his allusions to the 
Iroquois. The secret was plainly no secret to him. I 
hope to get their scalps,” said he, “ when you have done 
with them and they with you, Le Gardeur ! ” 

The evening passed on pleasantly, and the clock of the 
Recollets pealed out a good late hour before they took final 
leave of their hospitable hostess, with mutual good wishes 
and adieus which with some of them were never repeated. 
Le Gardeur was no little touched and comforted by so 
much sympathy and kindness. He shook the Bourgeois 
affectionately by the hand, inviting him to come up to 
Tilly. It was noticed and remembered that this evening, Le 
Gardeur clung filially as it were, to the father of Pierre, and 
the farewell he gave him, was tender, almost solemn, in a 
sort of sadness, that left an impress upon all minds. 

Tell Pierre ! but indeed he knows we start earl}^ ! ” said 
Le Gardeur, ‘‘ and the canoes will be waiting on the Bat- 
ture, an hour after sunrise.” 

The Bourgeois knew in a general way the position of 
Le Gardeur, and sympathized deeply with him. Keep 
your heart up, my boy ! ” said he -on leaving. ‘‘Remember 
the proverb, never forget it for a moment, Le Gardeur ! 
Ce qiie Dmi garde est bieii garde ! 

“ Good bye, Sieur Philibert ! ” replied he, still holding 
him by the hand. “ I would fain be permitted to regard 
you as a father, since Pierre is all of a brother to me ! ” 

“ I will be a father and a loving one too, if you will 
permit me, Le Gardeur,” said the Bourgeois, touched by 
the appeal. “When you return to the city, come home 
with Pierre. At the Golden Dog as well as at Belmont, 
there will be ever welcome for Pierre’s friend as for 
Pierre’s self.” The guests took their departure. 

The preparations for the journey home, were all made, 
and the household retired’ to rest, all glad to return to 
Tilly. Even Felix Baudoin felt like a boy going back on 
a holiday. His mind was surcharged with the endless 
things he had gathered up ready to pour into the sympa- 
thizing ear of Barbara Sanschagrin, and the servants and 
censitaires were equally eager to return to relate their 
adventures in the capital when summoned on the King’s 
corvee to build the walls of Quebec. 


THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG. . 


273 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE CANADIAN BOAT^ SONG. 

V’la rbon vent ! 

V’la I’joli vent! 

V’la rbon vent ! 

Ma mie m’ appelle ! 

V’la I’bon vent! 

V’la I’joli vent! 

V’la rbon vent ! 

Ma mie m’ attend ! 

The gay chorus of the voyageurs made the shores ring 
as they kept time with their oars while the silver spray 
dripped like a shower of diamonds in the bright sunshine 
at every stroke of their rapid paddles. The graceful 
bark canoes, things of beauty and almost of life, leaped 
joyously over the blue waters of the St. Lawrence as they 
bore the family of the Lady de Tilly and Pierre Philibert 
with a train of censitaires back to the old Manor House. 

The broad river was flooded with sunshine as it rolled 
majestically between the high banks crowned with green 
fields and woods in full leaf of summer. Frequent cottages 
and villages were visible along the shores, and now and 
then a little church with its bright spire or belfry marked 
the successive parishes on either hand as the voyagers 
passed on through the glorious panorama of a scene unsur- 
passed for beauty in the New World. 

The tide had already forced its way two hundred leagues 
up from the ocean and still pressed irresistibly onward 
surging and wrestling against the weight of the descending 
stream. 

The wind, too, was favorable. A number of yachts 
and bateaux spread their snowy sails to ascend the river 
with the tide. They were for the most part laden with 
munitions of war for the Richelieu on their way to the 
military posts on Lake Champlain, or merchandize for 
Montreal to be reladen in fleets of canoes for the trading 
posts up the river of the Ottawas, the great Lakes, or may^ 
hap to supply the new and far off settlements on the 
Belle Riviere and the Illinois. 

.* 18 


274 


T'HE CHIEN n OR. 


The line of canoes' swept past the sailing vessels with 
a cheer. The light-hearted crews exchanged salutations 
and bandied jests with each other, laughing immoderately 
at the well worn jokes current upon the river among the 
rough voyageurs. A good voyage ! a clear run ! short 
portages and long rests ! some enquired whether their 
friends had paid for the bear and buffalo skins they were 
going to buy, or they complimented each other on their 
nice heads of hair which it was hoped they would not 
leave behind as keepsakes with the Iroquois squaws. 

The boat songs of the Canadian voyageurs are unique 
in character and very pleasing when sung by a crew of 
broad chested fellows dashing their light birch bark canoes 
over the waters rough or smooth, taking them, as they take 
fortune, cheerfully. Sometimes skimming like wild geese 
over the long placid reaches, sometimes bounding like 
stags down the rough rapids and foaming saults. As 
might be inferred, the songs of the voyageurs differ widely 
from the sweet little lyrics sung in soft falsettoes to the 
tinkling of a piano forte in fashionable drawing rooms, and 
called “ Canadian boat songs.’’ 

The Canadian boat song is always some old ballad of 
Norman or Breton origin, pure in thought and chaste in 
expression, washed clean of all French looseness in its 
adaptation to the primitive manners of the Colony that 
was founded, as expressed in the commission given to its 
discoverer, Jacques Cartier, ‘‘for the increase of God’s 
Glory and the honor of his reverend name.” 

The boat song is usually composed of short stanzas. 
The closing line of each couplet or quatraine repeating 
itself in the beginning of the next following verse and end- 
ing with a stirring chorus that gathers up as into a Leyden 
jar, the life and electricity of the song, discharging it in a 
flash and peal of rhythmic thunder, every voice joining in 
the refrain while the elastic paddles dip with renewed 
energy into the water making the canoe spring like a flying 
flsh over the surface of lake or river. 

Master Jean La Marche, clean as a new pin and in his 
merriest mood, sat erect as the king of Yvetot in the bow 
of the long canoe, which held the Lady de Tilly and her 
family. His sonorous violin was coquettishly fixed in its 
place of honor under his wagging chin, as it accompanied 
his voice, while he chanted an old boat song which had 


THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG. 


27s 

lightened the labor of many a weary oar on lake and 
river from the St. Lawrence to the Rocky Mountains. 

Amelie sat in the stern of the canoe laving her white 
hand in the cool stream, which rushed past her. She 
looked proud and happy to-day, for the whole world of her 
affections was gathered together in that little bark. 

She felt grateful for the bright sun. It seemed to 
have dispelled every cloud that lately shaded her thoughts, 
on account of her brother, and she silently blessed the 
light breeze that played with her hair and cooled her 
cheek which she felt was tinged with a warm glow of pleas- 
ure in the presence of Pierre Philibert. 

She spoke little and almost thanked the rough voyageurs 
for their incessant melodies, which made conversation 
difficult for the time, and thus left her to her own sweet 
silent thoughts which seemed almost too sacred for the 
profanation of words. 

An occasional look or a sympathetic smile exchanged 
with her brother and her aunt, spoke volumes of pure 
affection. Once or twice the eyes of Pierre Philibert cap- 
tured a glance of hers which might not have been intended 
for him, but which Amelie suffered him to intercept and 
hide away among the secret treasures of his heart. A 
glance of true affection, brief, it may be, as a flash of light- 
ning, becomes when caught by the eyes of love a real 
thing, fixed and imperishable forever. A tender smile, a 
fond word of love’s creation, contains a universe of light 
and life, and immortality. Small things and of little value 
to others, but to him or her whom they concern, more 
precious and more prized than the treasures of Ind. 

Master Jean La Marche after a few minutes rest made 
still more refreshing by a draught from a suspicious look- 
ing flask, which, out of respect for the presence of his 
mistress, the Lady de ’Tilly, he said contained “ milk,” 
began a popular boat song which every voyageur in New 
France knew as well as his prayers, and loved to his very 
finger ends. 

The canoe-men pricked up their ears, like troopers at 
the sound of a bugle, as Jean La Marche began the famous 
old ballad of the king’s son, who with his silver gun aimed 
at the beautiful black duck, and shot the white one, out of 
whose eyes came gold and diamonds, and out of whose 
mouth rained silver, while its pretty feathers, scattered to 


THE CHIEN HO R. 


276 

the four winds, were picked up by three fair dames, who 
with them made a bed both large and deep — 

‘‘For poor wayfaring men to sleep.” 

Master Jean’s voice was clear and -resonant as a church 
bell newly christened ; and he sang the old boat-song with 
an energy that drew the crews of half-a-dozen other canoes 
into the wake of his music, all uniting in the stirring 
chorus : — 

“ Fringue ! Fringue sur la riviere ! 

Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron 1 ” 

A few stanzas of this popular boat-song, as it was sung 
by Jean La Marche, and is still chanted to the oar by the 
voyageurs of the North and North-West, are given in the 
original. The charming simplicity of it would be lost in 
a translation into another tongue, just as Josephte, the 
pride of a Canadian village, loses her natural naivete and 
grace when she adopts the fashions and language of the 
Bourgeoisie of Quebec and Montreal. 


“ Derriere chez nous 
Ya — t — un etang, 

Fringue ! Fringue sur Taviron ! 
Trois beaux canards 
S’en vont baignant, 

Fringue ! Fringue sur la riviere I 
Fringue ! Fringue sur Taviron 1 


Trois beaux canards 
S’en vont baignant ! 

Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron I 
Le fils du roi 
S’en va chassant. * 

Fringue ! Fringue sur la riviere, 
Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron I 


Le fils du roi 
S’en va chassant. 

Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron. 
Avec son grand 
Fusil d’argent. 

Fringue ! Fringue sur la riviere ! 
Fringue! Fringue sur I’aviron ! 


THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG. 


277 


Avec son grand 
Fusil d’argent 

Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron ! 

Visa le noir, 

Tua le blanc. 

Fringue ! Fringue sur la rivi^re^ 

Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron ! 

Visa le noir, 

Tua le blanc. 

Fringue! Fringue sur I’aviron! 

O fils du Roi, 

Tu es mechant. 

Fringue ! Fringue, sur la riviere ! 

Fringue ! Fringue sur I’aviron ! 

And so on, they sang for the space of half an hour, to 
the end of the pleasant old ditty. Jean La Marche sang 
the first and second lines solo, the crew joining in the third. 
He then sang the fourth and fifth, when the chorus, at the 
conclusion was repeated by the whole company fortissi- 
mo, the paddles moving with renewed vigor, and keeping 
time to the song. 

The performance of Jean La Marche was highly relished 
by the critical boatmen, and drew from them that flattering 
mark of approval, so welcome to a vocalist — an e^tcore of 
the whole long ballad from beginning to end. 

As the line of canoes swept up the stream, a welcome 
cheer occasionally greeted them from the shore, or a voice 
on land joined in the gay refrain. They drew nearer to 
Tilly, and their voices became more and more musical, 
their gaiety more irrepressible, for they were going home, 
and home to the habitans, as well as to their Lady, was the 
world of all delights. 

The contagion of high spirits caught even Le Gardeur, 
and drew him out of himself, making him for the time for- 
get the disappointments, resentments and allurements of 
the city. 

Sitting there in the golden sunshine, the blue sky above 
him, the blue waters below, — friends whom he loved around 
him, mirth in every eye, gayety on every tongue, — how 
could Le Gardebr but smile, as the music of the boatmen 
brought back a hundred sweet associations. Nay, he 
laughed, and to the inexpressible delight of Amelie and 
Pierre, who watched every change in his demeanor, united 
in the chorus of the glorious boat-song. 


278 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


A few hours of this pleasant voyaging brought the little 
fleet of canoes under the high bank which from its summit 
slopes away in a wide domain of forests, park and culti- 
vated fields, in the midst of which stood the high-pointed 
and many-gabled manor-house of Tilly. 

Upon a promontory — as if placed there for both a land 
and sea mark, to save souls as well as bodies — rose the 
belfry of the chapel of St. Michael, overlooking a cluster 
of white, old-fashioned cottages, which formed the village 
of St. Michael de Tilly. 

Upon the sandy beach a crowd of women, children and 
old men, had gathered, who were cheering and clapping 
their hands at the unexpected return of the Lady of the 
Manor, with all their friends and relatives. 

The fears of the villagers had been greatly excited 
for some days past, by exaggerated reports of the presence 
of Iroquois on the upper waters of the Chaudiere. They 
not unnaturally conjectured, moreover, that the general 
call for men on the king’s corvee^ to fortify the city, por- 
tended an invasion by the English, who, it was rumored, 
were to come up in ships from below, as in the days of Sir 
William Phipps, with his army of New Englanders, the 
story of whose defeat under the walls of Quebec was still 
freshly remembered in the traditions of the colony. 

‘‘ Never fear them ! ” said old Louis, the one-eyed pilot. 

It was in my father’s days. Many a time have I 
heard him tell the story — how in the autumn of the good 
year 1690, thirty-four great ships of the Bostonians came 
up from below, and landed an army of vefitres bleus of New 
England on the flats of Beauport. But our stout Governor, 
Count de Frontenac, came upon them from the woods with 
his brave soldiers, hahita?is and Indians, and drove them 
pell-mell back to their boats, and stripped the ship of Ad- 
miral Phipps of his red flag, which, if you doubt my word — 
which no one does — still hangs over the high altar of the 
church of Notre Dame des Victoires ! Blessed be our 
Lady, who saved our country from our enemies, — and will 
do so again, if we do not by our wickedness lose her favor ! 
But the arbre sec — the dry tree — still stands upon the 
Point de Levis, where the Boston fleet took refuge before 
beating their retreat down the river again, — and you know 
the old prophecy, that while that tree stands, the English 
shall never prevail against Quebec I ” 


THE CANADIAN BOA T SONG. 


279 


Much comforted by this speech of old Louis the pilot, 
the villagers of Tilly rushed to the beach to receive their 
friends. 

The canoes came dashing into shore. Men, women 
and children ran knee-deep into the water to meet them, 
and a hundred eager hands were ready to seize their prows, 
and drag them high and dry upon the sandy beach. 

“ Home again ! and welcome to Tilly, Pierre Philibert ! ’’ 
exclaimed Lady de Tilly, offering her hand. Friends 
• like you have the right of welcome here.’’ Pierre expressed 
his pleasure in fitting terms, and lent his aid to the noble 
Lady to disembark. 

Le Gardeur assisted Amelie out of the canoe. As he 
led her across the beach, he felt her hand tremble as it 
rested on his arm. He glanced down at her averted face, 
and saw her eyes directed to a spot well remembered by 
himself, — the scene of his rescue from drowning by Pierre 
Philibert. 

The whole scene came before Amelie at this moment. 
Her vivid recollection conjured up the sight of the inani- 
mate body of her brother as it was brought ashore by the 
strong arm of Pierre Philibert, and laid upon the beach, 
— her long agony of suspense, and her joy, the greatest 
she had ever felt before or since, at his resuscitation to life. 
— and, lastly, her passionate vow which she made when, 
clasping the neck of his preserver, — a vow which she had 
enshrined as a holy thing in her heart ever since. 

At that moment a strange fancy seized her, that Pierre 
Philibert was again plunging into deep water, to rescue her 
brother, and that she would be called on by some mysteri- 
ous power to renew her vow or fulfil it to the very letter. 

She twitched Le Gardeur gently by the arm and said 
to him, in a half whisper : “ It was there, brother ! do you 
remember ? ” 

“ I know it, sister ! ” replied he ; “I was also thinking 
of it. ' I am grateful to Pierre, yet, oh my Amelie, better 
he had left me at the bottom of the deep river, where I 
had found my bed ; I have no pleasure in seeing Tilly any 
more ! ” 

Why -not, brother I Are we not all the same ? Are 
we not all here ? There is happiness and comfort for you 
at Tilly.” 

“ There was once, Amelie,” replied he, sadly, “ but 


28 o 


THE CHIEN D^OR, 


there will be none for me in the future, as I feel too well. I 
am not worthy of you, Amelie.’’ 

Come, brother ! ’' replied she, cheerily, “you dampen 
the joy of our arrival. See, the flag is going up on the 
staff of the turret, aud old Martin is getting ready to fire 
off the culverin in honor of your arrival.” 

Presently there was a flash, a cloud of smoke, and the 
report of a cannon came booming down to the shore from 
the Manor House. 

“ That was well done of Martin and the women ! ” re- 
marked Felix Baudoin, who had served in his youth, and 
therefore knew what was fitting in a military salute. “ ‘ The 
women of Tilly are better than the men of Beauce,’ says 
the proverb.” 

“ Aye, or of Tilly either ! ” remarked Joseph te Le Tar- 
deur, in a sharp, snapping tone. Josephte was a short, 
stout virago, with a turned up nose and a pair of black 
eyes that would bore you through like an auger. She wore 
a wide-brimmed hat of straw, overtopping curls as crisp as 
her temper. Her short linsey petticoat was not chary of 
showing her substantial ankles, while her rolled up sleeves 
displayed a pair of arms so red and robust that a Swiss 
•milkmaid might well have envied them. 

Her remark was intended for the ear of Jose Le Tar- 
deur, her husband, a lazy, good-natured fellow, whose eyes 
had been fairly henpecked out of his head all the days of 
his married life. “ Josephte’s speech hit him without hurt- 
ing him,” as he remarked to a neighbor. “Josephte made 
a target of him every day. He was glad, for his part, that 
the women of Tilly were better soldiers than the men, and 
so much fonder of looking after things ! It saved the men 
a deal of worry and a good deal of work.” 

“What are you saying, Jose.^ ” exclaimed Felix, who 
only caught a few half words. 

“ I say. Master Felix, that but for Mere Eve there 
would have been no curse upon men, to make them labor 
when they do not want to, and no sin either. As the 
Cure says, we could have lain on the grass, sunning our- 
selves all day long. Now, it is nothing but work and pray, 
never play, else you will save neither body nor soul. 
Master Felix, I hope you will remember me if I come up 
to the Manor House.” 

“Aye, I will remember you, Jose” replied Felix, tartly ; 


THE CANADIAN BOA T SONG. 


281 


“but if labor was the curse which Eve brought into the 
* world when she ate the apple, I am sure you are free from 
it. So ride up with the carts, Jose, and get out of the way 
of my lady’s carriage ! ” 

Jose obeyed and, taking off his cap, bowed respectfully 
to the Lady De Tilly as she passed, leaning on the arm of 
Pierre Philibert, who escorted her to her carriage. 

A couple of sleek Canadian horses, sure-footed as goats 
and strong as little elephants, drew the coach with a long, 
steady trot up the winding road which led to the Manor 
House. 

The road, unfenced and bordered with grass on each 
side of the track, was smooth and well kept, as became the 
Grande Chaussee of the Barony of Tilly. It ran sometimes 
through stretches of cultivated fields — green pastures or 
corn lands ripening for the sickle of the cefisitaire. Some- 
times it passed through cool, shady woods, full of primeval 
grandeur — part of the great Forest of Tilly, which stretched 
away far as the eye could reach over the hills of the south 
shore. Huge oaks that might have stood there from the 
beginning of the world — wide-branching elms and dark 
pines overshadowed the highway, opening now and then 
into vistas of green fields wher- stood a cottage or two, 
with a herd of mottled cows grazing down by the brook. 
On ,the higher ridges the trees formed a close phalanx, and 
with their dark tops cut the horizon into a long, irregular 
line of forest, as if offering battle to the woodman’s axe 
that was threatening to invade their solitudes. 

Half an hour’s driving brought the company to the 
Manor House, a stately mansion, gabled and pointed like 
an ancient chateau on the Seine. 

It was a large irregular structure of hammered stone, 
with deeply recessed windows, mullioned and ornamented 
with grotesque carvings. A turret, loopholed and battle- 
mented, projected from each of the four corners of the 
house, enabling its inmates to enfilade every side with a 
raking fire of musketry, affording an adequate defence 
against Indian foes. A stone tablet over the main entrance 
of the Manor House was carved with the Armorial bear- 
ings of the ancient family of Tilly, with the date of its 
erection, and a pious invocation, placing the house under 
the special protection of St. Michael de Thury, the patron 
saint of the House of Tilly. 


282 


THE CHIEN HO R. 


The Manor House of Tilly had been built by Charles 
Le Gardeur De Tilly, a gentleman of Normandy, one of 
whose ancestors, the Sire De Tilly, figures on the roll of 
Battle Abbey, as a follower of Duke William, at Hastings 
His descendant, Charles Le Gardeur, came over to Canada 
with a large body of his vassals in 1636, having obtained 
from the King a grant of the lands of Tilly, on the bank 
of the St. Lawrence, to hold in Fief and Seigneury,” — so 
ran the royal patent — “with the right and jurisdiction of 
superior, moyenne and basse justice, and of hunting, fish- 
ing and trading with the Indians throughout the whole of 
this royal concession ; subject to the condition of foi et 
hoimnage^ which he shall be held to perform at the Castle 
of St. Louis, in Quebec, of which he shall hold under the 
customary duties and dues, agreeably to the coutume de 
Paris followed in this country.’’ 

Such was the style of the Royal grants of Seignioral 
rights conceded in New France, by virtue of one of which 
this gallant Norman gentleman founded his settlement and 
built this Manor House on the shores of the St. Lawrence. 

A broad smooth carriage road led up to the mansion 
across a park dotted with clumps of evergreens and decid- 
uous trees. Here and there an ancient patriarch of the 
forest stood alone, some old oak or elm, whose goodly pro- 
portions and amplitude of shade had found favor in the 
eyes of the Seigneurs of Tilly, and saved it from the axe 
of the woodman. 

A pretty brook, not too wide to be crossed over by a 
rustic bridge, meandered through the domain, peeping 
occasionally out of the openings in the woods as it stole 
away like a bashful girl from the eyes of her admirer. 

This brook was the outflow of a romantic little lake 
^ that lay hidden away among the wooded hills that bounded 
the horizon, an irregular sheet of water a league in circum- 
ference, dotted with islands and abounding with fish and 
waterfowl, that haunted its quie't pools. That primitive 
bit of nature had never been disturbed by axe or fire, 
and was a favorite spot for recreation to the inmates of the 
Manor House, to whom it was accessible either by boat 
up the little stream, or by a pleasant drive through the old 
woods. 

As the carriages drew up in front of the Manor House, 
every door, window and gable of which looked like an old 


FHE CANADIAN BOA T SONG. 283 

friend in the eyes of Pierre Philibert, a body of female ser- 
vants, the men had all been away at the city, stood ranged 
in their best gowns and gayest ribbons to welcome home 
their mistress and Mademoiselle Amelie, who was the idol 
of them all. 

Great was their delight to see Monsieur Le Gardeur, 
as they usually styled their young master, with another 
gentleman in military costume, whom it did not take two 
minutes for some of the sharp-eyed lasses to' recognize as 
Pierre Philibert, who had once saved the life of Le Gardeur 
on a memorable occasion, and who now, they said one to 
another, was come to the Manor House to — to — they 
whispered wLat it was to each other, and smiled in a know- 
ing manner ! 

Women’s wits fly swiftly to conclusions, and right ones, 
too, on most occasions. The lively maids' of Tilly -told 
one another in whispers that they were sure Pierre Phili- 
bert had come back to the Manor House as a suitor for 
the hand of Mademoiselle Amelie, as was most natural he 
should do, so handsome and manly looking as he was, and 
Mademoiselle always liked to hear any of them mention 
his name. The maids ran out the whole chain of logical 
sequences before either Pierre or Amelie had ventured to 
draw a conclusion of any kind from the premises of this 
visit. 

Behind the mansion, overlooking poultry-yards and 
stables which were well hidden from view, rose a high col- 
ombi^re or pigeon-house of stone, the possession of which 
was one of the rights which feudal law reserved to the lord 
of the manor. This colombiere was capable of containing 
a large army of pigeons, but the regard which the Lady de 
Tilly had for the cornfields of her censitaires, caused her 
to thin out its population to such a degree that there re- 
mained only a few favorite birds of rare breed and plumage, 
to strut and coo upon the roofs and rival the peacocks on 
the terrace with their bright colors. 

In front of the mansion, contrasting oddly with the 
living trees around it, stood a high pole, the long straight 
stem of a pine tree, carefully stripped of its bark, bearing 
on its top the withered remains of a bunch of evergreens, 
with the fragments of a flag and ends of ribbon which 
fluttered gaily from it. The pole was marked with black 
spots from the discharge of guns fired at it by the joyous 


284 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


hahitarii^., who nad kept the ancient custom of May-day 
by planting this May-pole in front of the Manor House of 
their lady. 

The planting of such a pole was in New France a special 
mark of respect due to the feudal superior, and custom 
as well as politeness required that it should not be taken 
down until the recurrence of another anniversary of Flora, 
which in New France sometimes found the earth white 
with snow and hardened with frost, instead of covered with 
flowers as in the old world whence the custom was derived. 

The Lady de Tilly duly appreciated this compliment of 
her faithful censitaires, and would sooner have stripped 
her park of half its live trees than have removed that dead 
pole, with its withered crown, from the place of honor in 
front of her mansion. 

The revels of May in New France, the king and queen 
of St. Philip, the rejoicings of a frank, loyal peasantry — 
illiterate in books but not unlearned in the art of life — have 
wholly disappeared before the levelling spirit of the nine- 
teenth century. 

The celebration of the day of St. Philip has been super- 
seded by the festival of St. John the Baptist, at a season 
of the year when green leaves and blooming flowers give 
the possibility of arches and garlands in honor of the Can- 
adian summer. 

Felix Beaudoin with a wave of his hand scattered the 
bevy of maid servants who stood chattering as they gazed 
upon the new arrivals. — The experience of Felix told him 
that everything had of course gone wrong during his ab- 
sence from the Manor House, and that nothing could be 
fit for his mistress’ reception until he had set all to rights 
again himself. 

The worthy Major Domo was in a state of perspiration 
lest he should not get into the house before his mistress, 
and don his livery to meet her at the door with his white 
wand and everything en rigk, just as if nothing had in- 
terrupted their usual course of housekeeping. 

The Lady De Tilly knew the weakness of her faithful 
old servitor, and although she smiled to herself she would 
not hurt his feelings by entering the house before he was 
ready at his post to receive her. She continued walking 
about the lawn conversing with Amelie, Pierre and Le 
Gardeur, until she saw old Felix with his wand and livery 


THE CANADIAN BOA T SONG. 285 

standing at the door, when, taking Pierre’s arm, she led the 
way into the house. 

The folding doors were open and Felix with his wand 
walked before his Lady and her companions into the man- 
sion. They entered without delay, for the day had been 
warm and the ladies were weary after sitting several hours 
in a canoe, a mode of travelling which admits of very little 
change of position in the voyagers. 

The interior of the Manor House of Tilly, presented 
the appearance of an old French chateau, A large hall 
with antique furniture occupied the centre of the house, 
used occasionally as a court of justice, when the Seigneur 
de Tilly exercised his judicial office for the trial of offen- 
ders, which was veiy^ rarely, thanks to the good morals 
of the people, or held a Cour Pleniere of his vassals, on 
affairs of the seigneurie for apportioning the corvees for 
road making and bridge building, and not the least impor- 
tant by any means for the annual feast to his Censitaires, 
on the day of St. Michael de Thury. 

From this hall, passages led into apartments and suites 
of rooms arranged for use, comfort and hospitality. The 
rooms were of all sizes, panelled, tapestried and furnished 
in a style of splendor suited to the wealth and dignity of the 
Seigneurs of Tilly. A stair of oak, broad enough for a section 
of grenadiers to march up it abreast, led to the upper cham- 
ers, bedrooms and boudoirs, which looked out of old mul- 
lioned windows upon the lawn and gardens that surrounded 
the house, affording picturesque glimpses of water, hills 
and forests far enough off for contemplation and yet near 
enough to be accessible by a short ride from the mansion. 

Pierre Philibert was startled at the strange familiarity 
of everything he saw. The passages and all their intricacies 
where he, Le Gardeur and Amelie had hid and found one 
another with cries of delight, he knew where they all led 
to. The rooms with their antique and stately furniture, 
the paintings on the wall, before which he had stood and 
gazed, wondering if the world was as fair as those land- 
scapes of sunny France and Italy, and why the men and wo- 
men of the house of Tilly, whose portraits hung upon the 
walls, looked at him so kindly with those dark eyes of theirs, 
which seemed to follow him everywhere, and he imagined 
they even smiled when their lips were illumined by a ray 
of sunshine. Pierre looked at them again with a strange 


286 


THE CHIENHOR. 


interest, they were like the faces of living friends who 
welcomed him back to Tilly after years of absence. 

Pierre entered a well remembered apartment which he 
knew to be the favorite sitting room of the Lady de Tilly, 
Pie walked hastily across it to look at a picture. upon the 
wall which he recognized again with a flush of pleasure. 

It was the portrait of Amelie painted by himself during 
his last visit to Tilly. The young artist, full of enthusiasm, 
had put his whole soul into the work until he was himself 
startled at the vivid likeness which almost unconsciously 
flowed from his pencil. He had caught the divine upward ex- 
pression of her eyes, as she turned her head to listen to him 
and left upon the canvas the very smile he had seen upon 
her lips. Those dark eyes of hers had haunted his men>- 
ory for ever after. To his imagination that picture had be- 
come almost a living thing.' It was as a voice of his own 
that returned to his ear as the voice of Amelie. In the 
painting of that portrait Pierre had the first revelation of a 
consciousness of his deep love which became in the end the 
master passion of his life. 

He stood for some minutes contemplating this portrait, 
so different from her in age now, yet so like in look and ex- 
pression. He turned suddenly and saw Amelie ; she had 
silently stepped up behind him, and her features in a glow 
of pleasure took on the very look of the picture. 

Pierre started ; he looked again and saw every feature of 
the girl of twelve looking through the transparent counte- 
nance of the perfect woman of twenty. It was a moment 
of blissful revelation, for he felt an assurance at that mo- 
ment that Amelie was the same to him now as in their days 
of youthful companionship. ‘‘ How like it is to you yet, 
Amelie 1 said he : ‘‘ it is more true than I knew how to 
make it ! ’’ 

‘‘That sounds like a paradox, Pierre Philibert ! replied 
she with a smile. “ But it means, I suppose, that you painted 
a universal portrait of me which will be like through all my 
seven ages. Such a picture might be true of the soul, 
Pierre, had you painted that, but I have outgrown the pic- 
ture of my person.” 

“ I could imagine nothing fairer than that portrait ! In 
soul and body it is all true, Amelie.’’ 

“ Flatterer that you are ! ” said she, laughing, “I could al- 
most wish that portrait would walk out of its frame to 


THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG. 287 

thank you for the care you bestowed upon its foolish little 
original.’’ 

My care was more than rewarded ! I find in that pic- 
ture my beau ideal o-f the beauty of life, which belonging 
to the soul is true to all ages.” 

The girl of twelve would have thanked you more enthu- 
siastically for that remark, Pierre, than I dare do,” replied 
she. 

“ The thanks are due from me, not from you, Amalie ! I 
became your debtor for a life long obligation when 
without genius I could do impossibilities. You taught 
me that paradox when you let me paint that picture.” 

Amelie glanced quickly up at him. A slight color 
came and went on her cheek. “ Would that I could do im- 
possibilities, ” said she, ‘‘to thank you sufficiently for your 
kindness to Le Gardeur and all of us for coming to Tilly 
at this time.” 

“ It would be a novelty, almost a relief to put Pierre 
Philibert under some obligation to us, for all we owe him ; 
would it not, Le Gardeur ? ” continued she, clasping the 
arm of her iDrother who just now came into the room. 
“ We will discharge a portion of our debt to Pierre for 
this welcome visit by a day on the lake ! we will make up 
a water party ! What say you, brother ? the gentlemen 
shall light fires, the ladies shall make tea, and we will have 
guitars and songs, and maybe a dance, brother ! and then 
a glorious return home by moonlight ! What say you to 
my programme, Le Gardeur de Repentigny ? What say 
you, Pierre Philibert ? ” 

Pierre admired the sisterly tact of Amelie. The 
projected water-party was only designed for the purpose 
of dissipating the cloud of cares that hung over the mind 
of her brother, yet if a tinge of pleasure at the presence of 
Pierre mingled with her joy — it was natural and pardon- 
able. 

“ It is a good programme, sister, but leave me out of 
it. I shall only mar the pleasure of the rest ; I will not 
go to the lake, I have been trying ever since my return 
home to recognize Tilly ; everything looks to me in an 
eclipse, and nothing bright as It once was, not even you, 
Amelie. Your smile has a curious touch of sadness in it, 
which does not escape my eyes, accursed as they have 
been of late, seeing things they ought not to see, yet I can 


288 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


see that and I know it too ; I have given you cause to be 
sad, sister.’’ 

“ Hush brother ! it is a sin against your dear eyes to 
speak of them thus ! Tilly is as bright and joyous as ever. 
As for my smiles, if you detect in them one trace of that 
^ sadness you talk about, I shall grow as melancholy as 
yourself, and for as little cause. Come ! you shall confess 
before three days, brother, if you will only help me to be 
gay, that your sister has the lightest heart in New France,” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS AND CONFIDENT TO-MORROWS. 

The ladies retired to their several rooms and after a 
general rearranging of toilets, descended to the great 
parlor, where they were joined by Messire La Lande, the 
cure of the parish, a benevolent, rosy old priest, and 
several ladies from the neighborhood, with two or three 
old gentlemen of a military air and manner, retired officers 
of the army ,who enjoyed their pensions, and kept up their 
’'espectability at a cheaper rate in the country than they 
could do in the city. 

Felix Beaudoin had for the last two hours kept the 
cooks in hot water. He was now superintending the lay- 
ing of the table, resolved that notwithstanding his long 
absence from home, the dinner should be a marvellous 
success. 

Amelie was very beautiful to-day. Her face was aglow 
with pure air and exercise, and she felt happy in the 
apparent contentment of her brother, whom she met with 
Pierre on the broad terrace of the Manor House. 

She was dressed with exquisite neatness, yet plainly. 
An antique cross of gold formed her only adornment 
except her own charms. That cross she had put on in 
honor of Pierre Philibert. He recognized it with delight 
as a birthday gift to Amelie which he had himself given 
her during their days of juvenile companionship, on one 
of his holiday visits to Tilly. 


CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS, ETC. 289 

She was conscious of his recognition of it. It brought 
a flush to her cheek ; “ It is in honor of your visit, Pierre,” 
said she frankly, “ that I wear your gift. Old friendship 
lasts well with me, does it not ? But you will find more old 
friends than me at Tilly who have not forgotten you.” 

“ I am already richer than Croesus, if friendship count 
as riches, Amelie. The hare had many friends but none 
at last, I am more fortunate in possessing one friend worth 
a million.” 

Nay, you have the million too, if good wishes count 
in your favor, Pierre, you are richer — ” the bell in the 
turret of the Chateau began to ring for dinner, drowning 
her voice somewhat. 

“ Thanks to the old bell for cutting short the com- 
pliment, Pierre,” continued she, laughing, ‘‘you donh know 
what you have lost ! but in compensation you shall be 
my cavalier, and escort me to the dining-room.” 

She took the arm of Pierre and in a merry mood which 
brought back sweet memories of the past, their voices 
echoed again along the old corridors of the Manor House, as 
they proceeded to the great dining-room, where the rest of 
the company were assembling. 

The dinner was rather a stately affair owing to the 
determination of Felix Beaudoin to do especial honor to 
the return home of the family. How the company ate, 
talked, and drank at the hospitable table, need not be 
recorded here. The good cure, his face, under the joint 
influence of good humor, and good cheer, was full as a 
harvest moon. He rose at last, folded his hands and 
slowly repeated “ agimus gratias.’’ After dinner the 
company withdrew to the brilliantly lighted drawing-room, 
where conversation, music, and a few games of cards for 
such as liked them, filled up a couple of hours longer. 

The Lady de Tilly seated beside Pierre Philibert, on 
the sofa, conversed with him in a pleasant strain, while the 
cure, with a couple of old dowagers in turbans, and an old 
veteran officer of the colonial marine, long stranded on a 
lee shore, formed a quartette at cards. 

These were steady enthusiasts of whist and piquet, 
such as are only to be found in small country circles 
where society is scarce, and amusements few. They had 
met as partners or antagonists, and played, laughed and 
wrangled over sixpenny stakes, and odd tricks and honors, 

19 


290 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


every week for a quarter of a century, and would willingly 
have gone on playing till the day of judgment without a 
change of partners, if they could have trumped death and 
won the odd trick of him. 

Pierre recollected having seen these same old friends 
seated at the same card table, during his earliest visits to 
the Manor House. He recalled the fact to the Lady ds 
Tilly, who laughed and said : ‘‘ her old friends had lived sc 
long in the company of the Kings and Queens that formed 
the paste-board Court of the kingdom of Cocagne, that 
they could relish no meaner amusement than one which 
Royalty, although mad, had the credit of introducing.’’ 

Amelie devoted herself to the task of cheering her 
somewhat moody brother. She sat beside him, resting her 
hand with sisterly affection upon his shoulder, while in a 
low, sweet voice she talked to him, adroitly touching those 
topics only which she knew woke pleasurable associations 
in his mind. Her words were sweet as manna and full of 
womanly tenderness and sympathy, skilfully wrapped in a 
strain of gayety like a bridal veil which covers the tears of 
the heart. 

Pierre Philibert’s eyes involuntarily turned towards her, 
and his ears caught much of what she said. He was 
astonished at the grace and perfection of her language. 
It seemed to him like a strain of music filled with every 
melody of earth and heaven, surpassing poets in beauty 
of diction, philosophers in truth, and in purity of affection 
all the saints and sweetest women of whom he had ever 
read. 

Her beauty, her vivacity, her modest reticences and 
her delicate tact in addressing the captious spirit of Le 
Gardeur, filled Pierre with admiration. He could at that 
moment have knelt at her feet and worshipped in her the 
realization of every image which his imagination had ever 
formed of a perfect woman. 

Now and then she played on the harp for Le Gardeur 
the airs which she knew he liked best. His sombre mood 
yielded to her fond exertions and she had the reward of 
drawing at last a smile from his eyes as well as from his 
lips. The last she knew might be simulated, the former 
she felt was real, for the smile of the eye is the flash of the 
joy kindled in the glad heart. 

Le Gardeur was not dull nor ungrateful, he read clearly 


CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS, ETC. 


291 


enough the loving purpose of his sister. His brow cleared 
up under her sunshine. He smiled, he laughed and 
Amelie had the exquisite joy of believing she had gained 
a victory over the dark spirit that had taken possession of 
his soul, although the hollow laugh struck the ear of Pierre 
Philibert with a more uncertain sound than that which 
flattered the fond hopes of Amelie. 

Amelie looked towards Pierre and saw his eyes fixed 
upon her, with that look which fills every woman with 
an emotion almost painful in its excess of pleasure when 
first she meets it. That unmistakeable glance from the 
eyes of a man who she is proud to perceive has singled her 
out from all other women for his love and homage. 

Her face became of a deep glow in spite of her efforts 
to look calm and cold j she feared Pierre might have mis- 
interpreted her vivacity of speech and manner. Sudden dis- 
trust of herself came over her in his presence. The flow 
of her conversation was embarrassed and almost ceased. 

To extricate herself from her momentary confusion 
which she was very conscious had not escaped the obser- 
vation of Pierre (and the thought of that confused her still 
more), she rose and went to the harpsichord to recover her 
composure by singing a sweet song of her own composition, 
written in the soft dialect of Provence, the Languedoc., full 
of the sweet sadness of a tender, impassioned love. 

Her voice, tremulous in its po.wer, flowed in a thous- 
and harmonies on the enraptured ears of her listeners. 
Even the veteran card players left a game of whist unfin- 
ished to cluster round the angelic singer. 

Pierre Philibert sat like one in a trance. He loved music 
and understood it passing well. He had heard all the rare 
voices which Paris prided itself in the possession of, but 
he thougl]t he had never known what music was till now. 
His heart throbbed in sympathy with every inflection of the 
voice of Amelie which went through him like a sweet spell 
of enchantment. It was the voice of a disembodied spirit 
singing in the language of earth, which changed at last 
into a benediction and good night for the departing guests, 
who at an earlier hour than usual out of consideration for 
the fatigue of their hosts took their leave of the Manor 
House and its hospitable inmates. 

The family, as families will do upon the departure of 
their guests, drew up in a narrower circle round the fire, 


292 


THE CHI EM HOR. 


that blessed circle of freedom and confidence which belongs 
only to happy households. The novelty of the situation 
kept up the interest of the day and they sat and conversed 
until a late hour. 

The Lady de Tilly reclined comfortably in her fauteuil 
looking with goodnatured complacency upon the little group 
beside her. Amelie sitting on a stool reclined her head 
against the bosom of her aunt whose arm embraced her 
closely and lovingly, as she listened v/ith absorbing in- 
terest to an animated conversation between her aunt and 
Pierre Philibert. 

The Lady de Tilly drew Pierre out to talk of his 
travels, his studies and his military career of which he 
spoke frankly and modestl}^ His high principles won her 
admiration, the chivalry and loyalty of his character mingled 
with the humanity of the true soldier, touched a chord in 
her ov/n heart, stirring within her the sympathies of a nature 
akin to his. 

The presence of Pierre Philibert so unforeseen at the 
old Manor House seemed to Amelie the work of Providence 
for a good and great end, the reformation of her brother. 
If she dared to think of herself in connection with him, it 
was with fear and trembling, as a saint on earth receives a 
beatific vision that may only be realized in Heaven. 

Amelie with peculiar tact sought to entangle Le Gar- 
deur’s thoughts in an elaborate cobweb of occupations 
rivalling that of Arachne, which she had woven to catch 
every leisure hour of his, so as to leave him no time to 
brood over the pleasures of the Palais of the Intendant or 
the charms of Angelique des Meloises. 

There .were golden threads too, in the network in 
which she hoped to entangle him. Long rides to the 
neighboring seigneuries, where bright eyes and laughing 
lips were ready to expel every shadow of care from the 
most dejected of men, much more from a handsome gallant 
like Le Gardeur de Repentigny, whose presence at any of 
these old manors put their fair inmates at once in holiday 
trim' and in holiday humor. There were shorter walks 
through the park and domaine of Tilly, where she intend- 
ed to botanize and sketch, and even fish and hunt with Le 
Gardeur and Pierre, although sooth to say Amelie’s share 
in hunting would only be to ride her sure-footed pony and 
look at her companions. There were visits to friends far 


CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS, ETC. 


293 


and near and visits in return to the Manor House, and a 
grand excursion of all to the lake of Tilly in boats. They 
would colonize its little island for a day, set up tents, make 
a Governor and Intendant, perhaps a King and Queen, and 
forget the world till their return home. 

This elaborate scheme secured the approbation of the 
Lady de Tilly, who had in truth contributed part of it. Le 
Gardeur said he was a poor fly whom they were resolved 
to catch and pin to the wall of a Chd^teau en Espagne, hwi 
he would enter the web without a buzz of opposition on 
condition that Pierre would join him. So it was all 
settled. 

Amelie did not venture again that night to encounter 
the eyes of Pierre Philibert, she needed more courage than 
she felt just now to do that, but in secret she blessed him 
and treasured those fond looks of his in her heart, never to 
be forgotten any more. When she retired to her own 
chamber and was alone she threw herself in passionate 
abandonment before the altar in her little oratory which 
she had crowned with flowers, to mark her gladness. She 
poured out her pure soul in invocations of blessings upon 
Pierre Philibert, and upon her brother and all the house. 
The golden bead of her rosary lingered long in her loving 
fingers that night as she repeated over and over her accus- 
tomed prayers for his safety and welfare. 

The sun rose gloriously next morning over the green 
woods and still greener meadows of Tilly. The atmosphere 
was soft and pure. It had been washed clean of all its 
impurities by a few showers in the night. Every object 
seemed nearer and clearer to the eye, while the delicious 
odors of fresh flowers, filled the whole air with fragrance. 

The trees, rocks, waters and green slopes stood out 
with marvellous precision of outline, as if cut with a keen 
knife. No fringe of haze surrounded them as in a drouth, or 
in the evening when the air is filled with the shimmering 
of the day dust, which follows the sun’s chariot in his 
course round the world. 

Every object, great and small, seemed magnified to 
welcome Pierre Philibert who was up betimes this morning 
and out in the pure air viewing the old familiar scenes. 

With what delight he recognized. each favorite spot. 
There was the cluster of trees which crowned a prom- 
ontory overlooking the St. Lawrence, where he and Le 


294 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


Gardeur had stormed the eagle’s nest. In that sweep of 
forest, the deer used to browze and the fawns couch in the 
long ferns. Upon yonder breezy hill they used to sit and 
count the sails turning alternately bright and dark as the 
vessels tacked up the broad river. There was a stretch of 
green lawn still green, as it was in his memory ; how ever- 
lasting are God’s colors ! There he had taught Amelie to 
ride and holding fast ran by her side keeping pace with her 
flying Indian pony. How beautiful and fresh the picture 
of her remained in his memory ! The soft white dress she 
wore, her black hair streaming over her shoulders, her dark 
eyes flashing delight, her merry laugh rivalling the trill of 
the blackbird which flew over their -heads chattering for 
very joy. Before him lay the pretty brook with its rustic 
bridge reflecting itself in the clear water as in a mirror. 
That path along the bank led down to the willows, where 
the big mossy stones lay in the stream and the silvery 
salmon and speckled trout lay fanning the water gently 
with their flns as they contemplated their shadows on the 
smooth sandy bottom. 

Pierre Philibert sat down on a stone by the side of the 
brook, and watched the shoals of minnows move about in 
little battalions, wheeling like soldiers, to the right or left, 
at a wave of the hand. But his thoughts were running in 
a circle of questions and enigmas for which he found 
neither end nor answer. 

For the hundredth time Pierre proposed to himself the 
tormenting enigma, harder, he thought, to solve than any 
problem of mathematics — for it was the riddle of his life — 
‘‘What thoughts are truly in the heart of Amelie de Re- 
pentigny respecting me 1 Does she recollect me only as 
her brother’s companion, who. may possibly have some 
claim upon her friendship, but none upon her love ? ” His 
imagination pictured every look she had given him since 
his return. Not all ! O ! Pierre Philibert ! The looks 
you would have given worlds to catch, you were uncon- 
scious of ! Every word she had spoken, the soft inflection 
of every syllable of her silvery voice lingered in his ear. 
He had caught meanings where perhaps no meaning was, 
and missed the key to others which he knew were there— 
never, perhaps, to be revealed to him. But, although he 
questioned in the name of love, and found many divine 
echoes in her words, imperceptible to every ear but his 


CHEERFUL YESTERDAYS, ETC. 


295 

own, he could not wholly solve the rickllc of his life. Still 
he hoped. 

‘‘ If love creates love, as some say it does,’’ tliought he, 
“ Amelie de Repentigny cannot be indifferent to a passion 
which governs every impulse of my being ! But is there 
any especial merit in loving her, whom all the world can- 
not help admiring equally with myself ? I am presumptu- 
ous to think so ! — and more presumptuous still to expect, 
after so many years of separation and forgetfulness, that 
her heart, so loving and so sympathetic, has not already 
bestowed its affection upon some one more fortunate than 
me.” 

While Pierre tormented himself with these sharp thorns 
of doubt — and of hopes, painful as doubts, — little did he 
think what a brave, loving spirit was hid under the silken 
vesture of Amelie de Repentigny, and how hard was her 
struggle to conceal from his eyes those tender regards 
which, with over delicacy, she accounted censurable be- 
cause they were wholly spontaneous. 

He little thought how entirely his image had filled her 
heart during those years, when she dreamed of him in the 
quiet cloister, living in a world of bright imaginings oE her 
own ; how she had prayed for his safety and welfare as 
she would have prayed for the soul of one dead — never 
thinking or even hoping to see him again. 

Pierre had become to her as one of the disembodied 
saints or angels, whose pictures looked down from the 
wall of the Convent chapel — the bright angel of the 
Annunciation or the youthful Baptist proclaiming the way 
of the Lord. Now, that Pierre Philibert was alive in the 
flesh, — a man, beautiful, brave, honorable, and worthy of 
any woman’s love, — Amelie was frightened ! She had not 
looked for that, and yet it had come upon her. And, 
although trembling, she was glad and proud to find she 
had been remembered by the brave youth, who recognized 
in the perfect woman the girl he had so ardently loved 
as a boy. 

Did he love her still Woman’s heart is quicker to 
apprehend all possibilities than man’s. She had caught a 
look once or twice in the eyes of Pierre Philibert which 
thrilled the inmost fibres of her being. She had detected 
his ardent admiration. Was she offended ? Far from it! 
And although her cheek had flushed deeply red, and her 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


296 

pulses throbbed hard at the sudden consciousness that 
Pierre Philibert admired, nay, more, — she could not con- 
ceal it from herself ; she knew that night — that he loved 
her ! She would not have forgone that moment of revela- 
tion for all that the world had to offer. 

She would gladly at that moment of discovery have fled to 
her own apartment, and cried for joy, but she dare not ; she 
trembled lest his eyes, if she looked up, should discover the 
secret of her own. She had an overpowering conscious- 
ness that she stood upon the brink of her fate : that ere long 
that look of his would be followed by words — blessed, 
hoped for words ! — from the lips of Pierre Philibert ; 
words which would be the pledge and assurance to her of 
that love which was hereafter to be the joy — it might be, 
the despair, but in any case, the all in all of her life for 
ever. 

Amelie had not yet realized the truth that love is the 
strength, not the weakness of woman ; and that the bold- 
* ness of the man is rank cowardice in comparison with the 
bravery she is capable of, and the sacrifices she will make 
for the sake of the man who has won her heart. 

God locks up in a golden casket of modesty the yearn- 
ings of a woman’s heart. But when the hand in which he 
has placed the key that opens it calls forth her glorified 
affections, they come out like the strong angels, and hold 
back the winds that blow from the four corners of the 
earth that they may not hurt the man whose forehead is 
sealed with the kiss of her acknowledged love. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE. 

Amelie, after a night of wakefulness and wrestling 
with a tumult of new thoughts and emotions — no lon- 
ger dreams, but realities of life — dressed herself in a 
light morning costume, which, simple as it was, bore the 
touch of her graceful hand and perfect taste. With a broad- 
brimmed straw hat set upon her dark tresses, which were 


A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE. 


297 

knotted with careless care in a blue ribbon, she descended 
the steps of the Manor House. There was a deep bloom 
upon her cheeks, and her eyes looked like fountains of 
light and gladness, running over to bless all beholders. 

She enquired of Felix Beaudoin of her brother. The 
old major-domo, with a significant look, informed her that 
Monsieur Le Gardeur had just ordered his horse to ride 
to the village. He had first called for a decanter of cog- 
nac, and when it was brought to him he suddenly thrust 
it back, and would not taste it. ‘‘ He would not drink 
even Jove’s nectar in the Manor House,” he said ; “but 
would go down to the village, where Satan mixed the drink 
for thirsty souls like his ! Poor Le Gardeur ! ” continued 
Felix, “ you must not let him go to the village this morn- 
ing, Mademoiselle ! ” 

Amelie was startled at this information. She hastened 
at once to seek her brother, whom she found walking im- 
patiently in the garden, slashing the heads off the tulips 
and dahlias within reach of his riding-whip. He was 
equipped for a ride, and waited the coming of the groom 
with his horse. 

Amelie ran up and clasping his arm with both hands as 
she looked up in his face vfith a smile, exclaimed, “ Do not 
go to the village yet, Le Gardeur ! Wait for us.” , 

“ Not go to the village yet, Amelie ? ” replied he, 
“ Why not } I shall return for breakfast, although I have 
no appetite. I thought a ride to the village would give 
me one.” ^ 

“Wait until after breakfast, brother, when we will all 
go with you to meet our friends who come this morning to 
Tilly, our cousin Heloise de Lotbiniere is coming to see you 
and Pierre Philibert. You must be there to welcome 
her. Gallants are too scarce to allow her to spare the hand- 
somest of all, my own brother ! ” 

Amalie divined truly from Le Gardeur’s restless eyes 
and haggard look that a fierce conflict was going on in his 
breast, between duty and desire. Whether he should re- 
main at home or go to the village to plunge again into the 
sea of dissipation out of which he had just been drawn to 
land half drowned and utterly desperate. 

Amelie resolved not to leave his side but to cleave to 
him and inch by inch to fight the demons which possessed 
him until she got the victory. 


298 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


Le Gardeur looked fondly in the face of Amelie. He 
read her thoughts, and was very conscious why she wished 
him not to go to the village. His feelings gave way before 
her love and tenderness. He suddenly embraced her and 
kissed her cheeks, while the tears stood welling in his eyes. 
“ I am not worthy of you, Amelie,’’ said he, “ so much sisterly 
care is lost on me ! ” 

‘‘Oh, say not that, brother,” replied she, kissing him 
fondly in return. “ I would give my life to save you. O my 
brother ! ” 

Amelie was greatly moved and for a time unable to 
speak further, she laid her head on his shoulder and sob- 
bed audibly. Her love gained the victory where remon- 
strance and opposition would have lost it. 

“You have won the day, Amelie ! ” said he, “ I will not 
go to the village except with you ; you are the best and 
truest girl in all Christendom ! Why is there no other like 
you ? It there were, this curse had not come upon me, nor 
this trial upon you, Amelie ! you are my good angel and I 
will try, O so faithfully try to be guided by you ! If you 
fail you will at least have done all, and more than your duty 
towards your erring brother.” 

“ Le Brun ! ” cried he to the groom who had brought his 
horse and to whom he threw the whip which had made such 
havoc among the flowers, “ lead Black Caesar to the stable 
again ! and hark you ! when I bid you bring him out in 
the early morning another time, lead him to me unbridled 
and unsaddled, with only a halter on his head, that I may 
ride as a clown, not as a gentleman ! ” 

Le Brun stared at this speech and finally regarded it as 
a capital joke, or else as he whispered to his fellow grooms 
in the stable, “ He believed his young master had gone 
mad ! ” 

“Pierre Philibert,” continued Amelie,“is down at the sal- 
mon pool. Let us join him, Le Gardeur, and bid him good 
morning once more at Tilly.” 

Amelie, overjoyed at her victory, tripped gaily by the side 
of her brother, and presently two friendly hands, the hands 
of Pierre Philibert were extended to greet her and Le 
Gardeur. 

The hand of Amelie was retained for a moment in that 
of Pierre Philibert sending the blood to her cheeks. There 
is a magnetic touch in loving fingers which is never mistak- 


A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE. 


299 

\.,n, though their contact be but for a second of time. It 
anticipates the strong grasp of love which will ere long em- 
brace body and soul in adamantine chains of a union not 
to be broken even by death. 

If Pierre Philibert retained the hand of Amelie for one 
second longer than mere friendship required of him, no one 
perceived it but God and themselves. Pierre felt it like a 
revelation. The hand of Amelie yielding timidly but not 
unwillingly to his manly grasp. He looked in her face. 
Her eyes were averted and she withdrew her hand quietly 
but gently, as not upbraiding him. 

That moment of time flashed a new influence upon both 
their lives. It was the silent recognition that each was 
henceforth conscious of the special regard of the other. 

There are moments which contain the whole quintes- 
sence of our lives — our loves, our hopes, our failures, in one 
concentrated drop of happine-.s or misery. We look be- 
hind us and see that our whole past has led up to that inflnit- 
essimal fraction of time, which is the consummation of the 
past in the present, the end of the old and the beginning of 
the new. We look forward from the vantage ground of the 
present and the world of a new revelation lies before us. 

Pierre Philibert was conscious from that moment 
that Amalie de Repentigny was not indifferent to him. 
Nay he had a ground of hope that in time she would 
listen to his pleadings and at last bestow on him the gift 
of her priceless love. * 

His hopes were sure hopes, although he did not dare to 
give himself the sweet assurance of it, nor did Amdlie her- 
self as yet suspect how far her heart was irrevocably wed- 
ded to Pierre Philibert 

Deep as was the impression of that moment upon both 
of them, neither Philibert nor Amelie yielded to its influ- 
ence more than to lapse into a momentary silence which 
was relieved by Le Gardeur, who suspecting not the cause, 
nay, thinking it was on his account that his companions 
were so unaccountably grave and still, kindly endeavored 
to force the conversation upon a number of interesting top- 
ics and directed the attention of Philibert to various points 
of the landscape which suggested reminiscences of his for- 
mer visits to Tilly. 

The equilibrium of conversation was restored and the 
three sitting down on a long flat stone, a boulder which had 


300 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


dropped millions of years before out of an iceberg as it sailed 
slowly over the glacial ocean which then covered the place of 
New France, commenced to talk over Amelie’s programme 
of the previous night, the amusements she had planned 
for the week, the friends in all quarters they were to visit, 
and the friends from all quarters they were to receive at 
the Manor House. These topics formed a source of fruit- 
ful comment, as conversation on our friends always does. 
If the sun shone hot and fierce at noontide in the dog days 
they would enjoy the cool shade of the arbors with books 
and conversation. They would ride in the forest or em- 
bark in their canoes for a row up the bright little river, 
there would be dinners and diversions for the day ; music 
and dancing for the night. 

The spirits of the inmates of the Manor House could 
not help but be kept up by these expedients, and Amelie 
flattered herself that she would quite succeed in dissipat- 
ing the gloomy thoughts which occupied the mind of 
Le Gardeur. 

They sat on the stone by the brook side for an hour, 
conversing pleasantly while they watched the speckled trout 
dart like silver arrows spotted with blood in the clear pool. 

Le Gardeur strove to be gay, and teased Ame'lie by 
playfully criticising her programme, and half in earnest, 
half in jest, arguing for the superior attractions of the 
palace of the Intendant, to those of the Manor House of 
T-illy. He saw the water standing in her eyes, when a con- 
sciousness of what must be her feelings seized him. He 
drew her to his side, asked her forgiveness, and wished fire 
were set to the Palace and himself in the midst of it. He 
deserved it for wounding, even in jest, the heart of the 
best and noblest sister in the world. 

I am not wounded, dear Le Gardeur,” replied she, 
softly ; “ I knew you were only in jest ; my foolish heart 
is so sensitive to all mention of the Palace and its occu- 
pants in connection, with you, that I could not even take in 
jest what was so like truth.” 

Forgive me, I will never mention the Palace to you 
again, Amelie ! except to repeat the malediction I have 
bestowed upon it a thousand times an hour, since I return- 
ed to Tilly.” 

My own brave brother ! ” exclaimed she, embracing 
him, “ now I am happy ! ” 


A DAY AT THE MA HO R HOUSE. 


301 


The shrill notes of a bugle were heard sounding a mil- 
itary call to breakfast. It was the special privilege of an 
old servitor of the family who had been a trumpeter in* the 
troop of the Seigneur of Tilly, to summon the family of 
the Manor House in that manner to breakfast only. The 
old trumpeter had solicited long to be allowed to sound 
the reveille at break of day, but the good Lady de Tilly 
had too much regard for the repose of the inmates of her 
house to consent to any such untimely waking of them 
from their morning slumbers. 

The old familiar call was recognized by Philibert, who 
reminded Amelie of a day when Eolus (the ancient trum- 
peter bore that windy soubriquet) had accompanied them 
on a long ramble in the forest, — how the day, being warm, 
the old man fell asleep under a comfortable shade, while 
the three children straggled off into the depths of the 
woods, where they were speedily lost. 

“ I remember it like yesterday, Pierre,” exclaimed 
Amelie, sparkling at the reminscence ; I recollect how 
I wept and wrung my hands, tired out,^ hungry and forlorn, 
with my dress in tatters, and one shoe deft in a miry place 1 
I recollect, moreover, that my protectors were in almost 
as bad a plight as myself, yet they chivalrously carried the 
little maiden by turns or together made a Queen’s chair 
for me with their locked hands, until we all broke down 
together and sat crying at the foot of a tree, reminding one 
another of the babes in the wood, and recounting stories 
of bears which had devoured lost naughty children in the 
forest. I remember how we all knelt down at last and re- 
cited our prayers until suddenly we heard the bugle of 
Eolus sounding close by us. The poor old man, wild with 
rapture at having found us, kissed and shook us so violent- 
ly that we almost wished ourselves lost in the forest again.” 

The recollection of this adventure was very pleasing to 
Pierre. He recalled every incident of it perfectly, and all 
three of them seemed for a while transported back into 
the fairy land of their, happy childhood. 

The bugle call of old Eolus again sounded and the 
three friends rose and proceeded towards the house. 

The little brook — it had never looked so bright before 
to Amelie — sparkled with joy like her own eyes. The 
orioles and blackbirds warbled in the bushes, and the in- 
sects which love warmth and sunshine chirmed and chir- 


302 


THE CHIENHOR, 


rnped among the ferns and branches, as Amdlie, Pierre 
and Le Gardeur walked home along the green foot path 
under the avenue of elms that led to the Chateau. 

The Lady de Tilly received them with many pleasant 
words. Leading them into the breakfast room, she con- 
gratulated Le Gardeur upon the satisfaction it afforded her 
to see her dear children, so she called them, once more 
seated round her board in health and happiness. Amelie 
colored slightly, and looked at her aunt as if questioning 
whether she included Philibert among her children. 

The Lady de Tilly guessed her thought, but pretending 
not to, bade Felix proceed with the breakfast and turned 
the conversation to topics more general. The Iroquois,’’ 
she said ‘‘ had left the Chaudiere * and gone further East- 
ward ; the news had just been brought in by messengers to 
the seigneury, and it was probable, nay, certain, that they 
would not be heard of again. Therefore Le Gardeur and 
Pierre Philibert were under no necessity of leaving the 
Manor to search for the savages, but could arrange with 
Amelie, for as much enjoyment as they could crowd into 
these summer days. 

“ It is all arranged, aunt ! ” replied Amelie. We have 
held a Cour Flenih^e this morning, and made a code of laws 
for our kingdom of cocagne during the next eight days. 
It needs only the consent of our Suzeraine Lady to be at 
once acted upon.” 

“ And your Suzeraine Lady gives her consent without 
further questioning, Amelie ! although I confess you have 
an admirable way of carrying your point, Amelie,” said her 
aunt, laughing, “ you resolve first what you will do, and 
ask my approbation after.” 

“ Yes, aunt, that is our way in the kingdom of pleasure! 
And we begin this morning; Le Gardeur and Pierre 
will ride to the village to meet our cousin Heloise, from 
Lotbiniere.” 

But you will accompany us, Amelie I ” exclaimed Le 
Gardeur. “ I will not go else — it was a bargain 1 ” 

“ O, I did not count myself for anything but an em- 
barrassment 1 of course I shall go with you, Le Gardeur, 
but our cousin Heloise de Lotbiniere is coming to see you, 
not me. She lost her heart,” remarked she turning to 
Pierre, when she was last here, at the feast of St. John, 
and is coming to seek it again.” 


A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE. 


303 


‘‘Ah ! how was that, Amdie ? '' asked Philibert, “ I re- 
member the lovely face, the chestnut curls and bright black 
eyes of Heloise de Lotbiniere. And has her’s really gone 
the way of all hearts ? ’’ 

“ Of all good hearts, Pierre — ^but 3^ou shall hear if you 
will be good and listen. She saw the portraits of you and 
Le Gardeur one day hung in the boudoir of my aunt. 
Heloise professed that she admired both until she could 
not tell which she liked best, and left me to decide.’^ 

“Ah ! and which of us did you give to the fair Heloise ? ’’ 
demanded Philibert with a sudden interest. * 

“ Not the Abelard she wanted, you may be sure, Pierre,’’ 
exclaimed Le Gardeur, “ she gave me and kept you ! It 
was a case of clear mis'appropriation.” 

“ No, brother, not so !” replied Amelie, hastily, “ He- 
loise had tried the charm of the three caskets with the 
three names without result, and at last watched in the 
church porch on the eve of St. John, to see the shade of 
her destined lover pass by, and lo, Heloise vowed she 
saw me, and .no one else, pass into the church ! ” 

“Ah ! I suppose it was you ? It is no rare thing for 
you to visit the shrine of our Lady on the eve of St. John. 
Pierre Philibert, do you recollect ? O, not as I do, dear 
friend,” continued Le Gardeur with a sudden change of 
voice, which was now filled with emotion, “ it was on the 
day of St. John you saved my poor worthless life. We are 
not ungrateful 1 She has kept the eve of St. John in the 
church ever since in commemoration of that event.” 

“ Brother, we have much to thank heaven for ! ” replied 
Amelie, blushing deeply at his words, “ and I trust we shall 
never be ungrateful for its favor and protection.” 

Amelie shied from a compliment like a young colt at 
its own shadow. She avoided further reference to the sub- 
ject broached by Le Gardeur, by saying “ It was I whom 
Heloise saw pass into the church. I never explained the 
mystery to her and she is not sure yet whether it was my 
wraith or myself who gave her that fright on St. John’s 
eve. But I claimed her heart as one authorized to take 
it, and if I could not marry her myself I claimed the right 
to give her to whomsoever I pleased, and I gave her to you, 
Le Gardeur, but you would not accept the sweetest girl in 
New France ! ” 

“ Thanks, Amdlie,” replied he, laughing, yet wincing, 


304 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


Hdoise is indeed all you say, the sweetest girl in New 
France ! But she was too angelical for Le Gardeur de 
Repentigny. Pshaw ! you make me say foolish things, 
Amelie. But in penance for my slight, I will be douWy 
attentive to my fair' cousin de Lotbiniere to-day, I will at 
once order the horses and we will ride down to the village 
to meet her.’^ 

Arrayed in a simple riding dress of dark blue, which 
became her as did everything else which she wore — Amelie’s 
very attire seemed instinct with the living graces and 
charms of its wearer. She mounted her horse, accepting 
the aid of Philibert to do so, although when alone she 
usually sprang to the saddle herself, saluting the Lady de 
Tilly who waved her hand to them from the lawn. The 
three friends slowly cantered down the bcoad avenue of the 
park toward the village of Tilly. 

Amelie rode well. The exercise and the pure air 
brought the fresh color to her face, and her eyes sparkled 
with animation as she conversed gaily with her brother and 
Philibert. 

They speedily reached the village, where they met He- 
loise de Lotbiniere, who rushing to Amelie kissed her with 
effusion, and as she greeted Le Gardeur looked up as if 
she would not have refused a warmer salutation than the 
kind shake of the hand with which he received her. She 
welcomed Philibert with glad surprise, recognizing him at 
once, and giving a glance at Amelie, which expressed an 
ocean of unspoken meaning and sympathy. 

Heloise was beautiful, gay, spirited, full of good humor, 
and sensibility. Her heart had long been devoted to Le 
Gardeur, but never meeting with any response to her shy 
advances, which were like the wheeling of a dove round 
and round its wished-for mate, she had long concluded 
with a sigh that for her the soul of Le Gardeur was insen- 
sible to any touch of a warmer regard than sprang from 
the most sincere friendship and regard. 

Amelie saw and understood all this ; she loved Heloise, 
and in her quiet way had tried to awaken a kinder feeling 
for her in the heart of her brother. As one fights fire with 
fire in the great conflagrations of the prairies, Amelie hoped 
also to combat the influence of Angelique des Melbises by 
raising up a potent rival in the fair Heloise de Lotbiniere, 
but she soon found how futile were her endeavors. The 


A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE. 


305 


heart of Le Gardeur was wedded to the idol of his fancy, 
and no woman on earth could win him away from Angelique. 

Amelie comforted Heloise by the gift of her whple con- 
fidence and sympathy. The poor disappointed girl ac- 
cepted the decree of fate, known to none other but Amelie, 
while in revenge upon herself — a thing not rare in proud, 
sensitive natures — she appeared in society more gay, more 
radiant and full of mirth than ever before. Heloise hia 
the asp in her bosom, but so long as its bite was unseen 
she laughed cruelly at the pain of it, and deceived as she 
thought the eyes of the world as to her suffering. 

The arrival of Heloise de Lotbiniere was followed by 
that of a crowd of other visitors, who came to the Manor 
House to pay their respects to the family on their return 
home, and especially to greet Le Gardeur and Colonel 
Philibert, who was well remembered, and whom the busy 
tongues of gossip already set down as a suitor for the hand 
of the young chatelaine. 

The report of what was said by so many whispering 
friends, was quickly carried to the ear of Amelie by some 
of her light-hearted companions. She blushed at the accu- 
sation, and gently denied all knowledge of it, laughing as 
a woman will laugh who carries a hidden joy or a hidden 
sorrow in her heart, neither of which she cares to reveal to 
the world’s eye. Amelie listened to the pleasant tale with 
secret complaisance, for despite her tremor and confusion 
it was pleasant to hear that Pierre Philibert loved her, and 
was considered a suitor for her hand. It was sweet to 
know that the world believed she was his choice. 

She threaded every one of these precious words, like a 
chaplet of pearls upon the strings of her heart — contem- 
plating them, counting them over and over in secret, with 
a joy known only to herself and to God, whom she prayed 
to guide her right whatever might happen. 

That something would happen ere long, she felt a pre- 
monition, which at times made her grave in the midst of 
her hopes and anticipations. 

The days passed gaily at Tilly. Amelie carried out 
the elaborate programme which she had arranged for the 
amusement of Le Gardeur as well as for the pleasures of 
her guests. 

Every day brought a change and a fresh enjoyment. 
The mornings were devoted by the gentlemen to hunting, 

20 


3o6 the chien hor,_ 

fishing, and other sport. By the ladies to reading, music, 
drawing, needlework or. the arrangements of dress and 
ornaments. In the afternoons all met together, and the 
social evening was spent either at the Manor House or 
some neighboring mansion. The hospitality of all was 
alike, a profusion of social feeling formed at that day, a 
marked characteristic of the people of New France. 

The Lady de Tilly spent an hour or two each day with 
her trusty land stewart or Bailli, Master Cote, in attending 
to the multifarious business of her Seigneurie. The feudal 
law of New France imposed great duties, and much labor 
upon the Lords of the Manor, by giving them an interest 
in every man’s estate, and making them participators in 
every transfer of land throughout a wide district of coun- 
try. A person who acquired by purchase or otherwise, the 
lands of a censitaire or vassal, was held to perform foi et 
hommage for the lands so acquired, and to acquit all other 
feudal dues owing by the original holder to his Seigneur. 

It was during one of these fair summer days at Tilly, 
that Sieur Tranchelot, having acquired the farm of the 
Bocage, a strip of land a furlong wide, and a league in 
depth, with a pleasant frontage on the broad St. Lawrence, 
the new censitaire came as in duty bound to render foi 
et hoinmage for the same to the Lady of the Manor of Tilly, 
according to the law and custom of the Seigneurie. 

At the hour of noon. Lady de Tilly with Le Gardeur, 
Amelie and Pierre Philibert in full dress stood on a dais 
in the great Hall, Master Cote sat at a table on the floor 
in front, with his great clasped book of record open before 
him. A drawn sword lay upon the table, and a cup of 
wine stood by the side of it. 

When all was arranged, three loud knocks were heard 
on the great door, and the Sieur Tranchelot dressed in his 
holiday costume but bareheaded and without sword or 
spurs, not being gentilhomme he was not entitled to wear 
them, entered the door, which was ceremoniously opened 
for him, by the major domo. He was gravely led up to 
the dais where stood the Lady of the Manor, by the Stewart 
bearing his wand of office. 

The worthy censitaire knelt down before the lady and 
repeated her name three times, pronounced the formula of 
foi et hom7tiage^ prescribed by the law, as owing to the 
Lords of the Manor of Tilly. 


A DAY AT THE MAiYOR HOUSE. 


307 


My Lady de Tilly ! My Lady de Tilly ! My Lady de 
Tilly ! I render you fealty and homage due to you on ac- 
count of my lands of the Bocage which belong to me, by 
virtue of the deed executed by the Sieur Marcel before the 
worthy notary^ Jean Pothier dit Robin, on the day of Palms 
1748, and I avow my willingness to acquit the Seigneurial 
and feudal cens et rentes and all other lawful dues, when- 
soever payable by me; beseeching you to be my good 
liege lady, and to admit me to the said fealty and homage ! 

The lady accepted the homage of Sieur Tranchelot, 
gave him the cup of wine to drink when he rose to his feet, 
and ordered him to be generously entertained by her 
major domo, and sent back to the Bocage rejoicing. So 
the days passed by in alternation of business and pastime, 
but all made a pleasure for the agreeable inmates of the 
Manor House. 

Philibert gave himself up to the delirum of enchant- 
ment, which the presence of Amelie threw over him. He 
never tired of watching the fresh developments of her 
gloriously endowed nature. Her beauty rare as it was, 
grew day by day upon his wonder and admiration, as he 
saw how fully it corresponded to the innate grace and 
nobility of her mind. 

She was so fresh of thought,, so free from all affectation, 
so gentle and winning in all her ways, and sooth to say 
so happy in the admiration of Philibert, which she was 
very conscious of now. It darted from his eyes at every 
look, although no word of it had yet passed his lips. The 
radiance of her spirits flashed like sunbeams through every 
part of the old Manor House. 

Amelie was carried away in a flood of new emotion, 
she tried once or twice to be discreetly angry with herself 
for admitting so unreservedly the pleasure* she felt 
Pierre’s admiration, she placed her soul on a rack of self 
questioning torture and every inquisition she made of her 
heart, returned the self same answer. ‘‘ She loved Pierre 
Philibert ! ” 

It was in vain she accused herself of possible impro- 
priety, that it was bold, unmaidenly, censurable, nay, per- 
haps sinful, to give her heart before it had been asked for, 
but if she had to die for it, she could not conceal the truth, 
that she loved Pierre Philibert ! ‘‘ I ought to be angry with 

myself,” said she. “ I try to be so, but I cannot! Why? ” 


THE CHIEN HO jx. 


308 

“ Why ? ” Amelie solved the query as every true 
woman does, who asks herself why she loves one man 
rather than another ! “ Because he has chosen me out in 

preference to all others, to be the treasure keeper of his 
affections ! I am proud,’^ continued Amelie, ‘‘ that he 
gives his love to me, to me ! unworthy as I am of such pre- 
ference ! I am no better than others.’^ Amelie was a 
true woman, proud as an Empress before other men. She 
was humble and lowly as the Madonna, in the presence of 
him whom she felt was by right of love, lord and master of 
her affections. 

Amelie could not overcome a feeling of tremor in the 
presence of Pierre since she made this discovery. Her 
cheek warmed with an incipient flush, when his ardent eyes 
glanced at her too eloquently. She knew what was in his 
heart, and once or twice, when casually alone with Philibert, 
she saw his lips quivering under a hard restraint to keep 
in the words, the dear words, she thought, which would 
one day burst forth in a flood of passionate eloquence, 
overwhelming all denial, and make her his own for ever. 

Time and tide, which come to all, once in our lives as 
the poet says, and which must be taken at their flood to 
lead to fortun^e, came at length to Amelie de Repentigny. 

It came suddenly and in an unlocked for hour, the 
great question of questions to her as to every woman. 

The hour of birth and the hour of death are in God’s 
hand, but the hour when a woman yielding to the strong 
enfolding arm of a man who loves her, falters forth an 
avowal of her love, and plights her troth, and vows to be 
one with him till death, God leaves that question to be 
decided by her own heart. His blessing rests upon her 
choice, if pure love guides, and reason enlightens affec- 
tion. His curse infallibly follows every faithless pledge 
where no heart is, every union that is not the marriage of 
love and truth. These alone can be married, and where 
these are absent, there is no marriage at all in the face 
of Heaven, and but the simulation of one on earth, an 
unequal yoking which if man will not sunder — God will at 
last, where there is neither marriage nor giving in marriage 
but all are as his angels. 

The day appointed for the long planned excursion fo the 
beautiful Lake of Tilly came round. A numerous and 
cheerful water-party left the Manor House in the bright 


A DAY AT THE MANOR HOUSE. 


309 


cool morning to spend the day gypsying in the shady 
woods and quiet recesses of the little lake. They were all 
there. Amelie’s invitation to her young friends far and 
near had been eagerly accepted. Half a dozen boats and 
canoes filled with light-hearted companions and with 
ample provisions for the day, shot up the narrow river, 
and after a rapid and merry voyage, disembarked their 
passengers and were drawn up on the shores and islands 
of the lake. 

That bright morning was followed by a sunny day, of 
blue skies, warm yet breezy. The old oaks wove a carpet 
of shadows, changing the pattern of its tissue every hour 
upon the leaf-strewn floor of the forest. The fresh pines 
shed their resinous perfume on every side in the still shade, 
but out in the sunshine the birds sang merrily all day. 

The groups of merry-makers spent a glorious day of 
pleasure by the side of the clear smooth lake, fishing and 
junketting on shore or paddling their birch canoes over 
its waters among the little islands which dotted its sur- 
face. 

Day was fast fading away into a soft twilight, the 
shadows which had been drawing out longer and longer as 
the sun declined, lay now in all their length, like bands 
stretched over the greensward. The breeze went down 
with the sun, and the smooth surface of the lake lay like a 
sheet of molten gold reflecting the parting glories of the 
day that still lit up the western sky. 

A few stars began to twinkle here and there ; they 
were not destined to shine brilliantly to-night, for they 
would ere long be eclipsed by the splendor of the full 
moon, which was just at hand, rising in a hemisphere of 
light, which stood like a royal pavilion on the eastern hori- 
zon. From it in a few minutes would emerge the Queen 
of Heaven and mildly replace the vanishing glory of the 
day. 

The company after a repast under the trees, rose full 
of life and merriment and rearranged themselves into little 
groups and couples as chance or inclination led them. 
They trooped down to the beach ‘to embark in their canoes 
for a last joyous cruise round the lake and its fairy islands, 
by moonlight, before returning home. 

Amid a shower of lively conversation and laughter, the 
ladies seated themselves in the light canoes which danced 


310 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


like corks upon the water The gentlemen took the 
paddles, and expert as Indians in the use of them, swept 
out over the surface of the lake which was now all aglow 
with the bright crimson of sunset. 

In the bow of one of the canoes sat the Arion of Tilly, 
Jean La Marche, a flute or two accompanied his violin, 
and a guitar tinkled sweetly under the fingers of Heloise 
de Lotbiniere. They played an old air, while Jean led the 
chorus in splendid voice. 

“ Nous irons sur Teau, 

Nous y prom-promener, 

Nous irons jouer dans kisle.” 

The voices of all united in the song as the canoes 
swept away round a little promontory crowned with three 
pine trees which stood up in the blaze of the setting sun, 
like the three. children in the fiery furnace, or the sacred 
bush that burned and was not consumed. 

Faint and fainter, the echoes repeated the receding 
harmony, until at last they died away. A solemn silence 
succeeded. A languor like that of the Lotus-eaters crept 
over the face of nature and softened the heart to unwonted 
tenderness. It was the hour of gentle thoughts, of low 
spoken confidences, and love between young and 
sympathizing souls, who alone with themselves and God 
confess their mutual love and invoke his blessing upon 
it. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

FELICES TER ET AMPLIUS. 

Amelie, by accident or by contrivance of her fail 
companions, girls are so wily and sympathetic with each 
other, had been left seated by the side of Philibert, on the 
twisted roots of a gigantic oak forming a rude but simple 
chair fit to enthrone the king of the forest and his dryad 
queen. No sound came to break the quiet of the evening 
hour save the monotonous plaint of a whip-poor-will in a 


FELICES TER ET AMPLIUS. 


311 

distant brake, and the ceaseless chirm of insects among 
the leafy boughs and down in the ferns that clustered on 
the knolls round about. 

Philibert let fall upon his knee the book which he had 
been reading. His voice faltered, he could not continue 
without emotion the touching tale of Paulo and Francesca 
da Rimini. Amelie’s eyes were suffused with tears of 
pity, for her heart had beat time to the music of Dante’s 
immortal verse as it dropped in measured cadence from 
the lips of Philibert. 

She had read the pathetic story before, but never 
comprehended until now, the weakness which is the 
strength of love. O blessed paradox of a woman’s heart ! 
and how truly the Commedia which is justly called Divine, 
unlocks the secret chambers of the human soul. 

Philibert ceased his reading and gazed fondly at her 
face, which she shyly averted, looking away over the broad 
sheet of water, while repeating in thought some of the 
divine stanzas which lingered like the chime of silver bells 
upon her memory. 

Amor cF al cor gentil ratio s'apprende^ 

A??ior cE a null amato amar perdona^ 

Questi che mai da mi 7ton fia diviso. 

Love that doth quickly seize the gentle heart, 

Love that excuses no loved one from loving, 

He who from me shall ne’er be parted more.” 

Love is death as well as life, separation as well as 
meeting ! Amelie was melted at the passionate tale and 
trembled, she knew not why, but she dared not for worlds 
at that moment have looked up in the eyes of Pierre 
Philibert. 

She would fain have risen, but held down as by some 
spell of fascination, she kept her seat. 

“ Read no more, Pierre,” said she, that book is too 
terrible in its beauty and in its sadness ! I think it was 
written by a disembodied spirit who had seen all worlds, 
knew all hearts, and shared in all sufferings. It sounds 
to me like the sad voice of a prophet of woe.” 

“ Amelie,” replied he, believe you there are women 
faithful and true as Francesca da Rimini ? she would not 
forsake Paulo even in the gloomy regions of despair. 
Believe you that there are such women ? ” 


312 


THE CHIEND'OR. 


Amdie looked at him with a quick confident glance. 
A deep flush covered her cheek, and her breath went and 
came rapidly, she knew what to answer, but she thought 
it might seem over bold to answer such a question. A 
second thought decided her, however. Pierre Philibert 
would ask her no question to which she might not answer, 
she said to herself. 

Amdlie replied to him slowly, but undoubtingly ; ‘‘ I 
think there are such women, Pierre,” replied she, “ women 
who would never even in the regions of despair, forsake 
the man whom they truly love, no, not for all the terrors 
recorded in that awful book of Dante ! ” 

‘‘ It is a blessed truth, Amelie,” replied he, eagerly, and 
he thought but did not say it, such a woman you are, 
the man who gets your love, gets that which neither earth 
nor heaven nor hell can take away.” 

He continued aloud, “the love of such a woman is 
truly given away, Amalie, no one can merit it ! It is a 
woman’s grace not man’s deserving.” 

“ I know not,” said she, “ it is not hard to give away 
God’s gifts, love should be given freely as God gives it to 
us. It has no value except as the bounty of the heart, and 
looks for no reward but in its own acceptance.” 

“Amelie!” exclaimed he, passionately, turning full 
towards her ; but her eyes remained fixed upon the ground. 
“ The gift of such a woman’s love has been the dream, 
the ambition of my life ! I may never find it, or having 
found it may never be worthy of it, and yet ! I must find 
it or die ! I must find it where alone I seek it ! there or 
nowhere ! can you help me for friendship’s sake — for 
love’s sake, Amelie de Repentigny, to find that one 
treasure that is precious as life, which is life itself to the 
heart of Pierre Philibert ” 

He took hold of her passive hands. They trembled in 
his, but she offered not to withdraw them. Indeed, she 
hardly noticed the act in the tide of emotion which was 
surging in her bosom. Her heart moved with a wild yearn- 
ing to tell him that he had found the treasure he sought, 
— that a love as strong and as devoted as that of Fran- 
cesca da Rimini was her own free gift to him. 

She tried to answer him, but could not. Her hand 
still remained fast locked in his. He held to it as a drown- 
ing man holds to the hand' that is stretched to save him. 


FELICES TER ET AMPLIUS, 


313 


Philibert knew at that moment that the hour of his 
fate was come. He would never let go that hand again 
till he called it his own, or received from it a sign to be 
gone for ever from the presence of Amelie de Repentigny. 

The soft twilight grew deeper and deeper every mo- 
ment, changing the rosy hues of the west into a pale ashen 
grey, over which hung the lamp of love — the evening star, 
which shines so brightly and sets so soon, — and ever the 
sooner as it hastens to become again the morning star of a 
brighter day. 

The shadow of the broad, spreading tree fell darker 
round the rustic seat where sat these two — as myriads have 
sat before and since, working out the problems of their lives, 
and beginning to comprehend each other, as they await 
with a thrill of anticipation the moment of mutual confi- 
dence and fond confession. 

Pierre Philibert sat some minutes without speaking. 
He could have sat so for ever, gazing with rapture upon 
her half averted countenance, which beamed with such a 
divine beauty, all aglow with the happy consciousness of 
his ardent admiration, that it seemed the face of a seraph, 
and in his heart, if not on his knees, he bent in worship, 
almost idolatrous, at her feet. 

And yet he trembled, this strong man who had faced 
death in every form but this ! He trembled by the side of 
this gentle girl — but it was for joy, not for fear. Per- 
fect love casts out fear, and he had no fear now for Amelie’s 
love, although she had not yet dared to look at him. But 
her little hand lay unreprovingly in his — nestling like a 
timid bird, which loved to be there, and sought not to es- 
cape. He pressed it gently to his heart ; he felt by its 
magnetic touch, by that dumb alphabet of love, more elo- 
quent than spoken words, that he had won the heart of 
Amdlie de Repentigny. 

Pierre,” said she, — she wanted to say it was time to 
rejoin their companions — ^but the words would not come. 
Her face was still half averted, and suffused with an un- 
seen blush, as she felt his strong arm round her ; and his 
breath, how sweet it seemed, fanning her cheek. She had 
no power, no will to resist him, as he drew her close, still 
closer to his heart. 

She trembled, but was happy. No eye saw but God’s 
through the blessed twilight ; and God will not reprove 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


514 

Pierre Philibert for loving me,’’ thought she, and why 
should I ? ” She tried, or simulated, an attempt at soft re* 
proof, as a woman will who fears she may be thought too 
forfd and too easily won, at the very moment she is ready 
to fall down and kiss the feet of the man before her. 

“ Pierre,” said she, it is time we rejoin our compan- 
ons ; they will remark our absence. We will go.” 

But she still sat there, and made no effort to go. A gos- 
samer thread could have held her there for ever, and how 
V ould she put aside the strong arm that was mightier than 
her own will ? 

Pierre spoke now ; the feelings so long pent up, burst 
forth in a torrent that swept away every bond of restraint, 
but that of love’s own laws. 

He placed his hand tenderly on her cheek, and turned 
her glowing face full towards him. Still she dared not 
look up. She knew well what he was going to say. She 
might control her words, but not her tell-tale eyes. She 
fell a wild joy flashing and leaping in her bosom, which no 
art could conceal, should she look up at this moment in 
the face of Pierre Philibert. 

‘‘ Amelie,” said he, after a pause, turn those dear- 
eyes, and see and believe in the truth of mine ! No words 
can express how much I do love you ! ” 

• She gave a start of joy, — not of surprise, for she knew 
he loved her. But the avowal of Pierre Philibert’s love 
lifted at once the veil from her own feelings. She raised her 
dark, impassioned eyes to his ; and their souls met and em- 
braced in one look both of recognition and bliss. She spake 
not, but unconsciously nestled closer to his breast, falter- 
ing out some inarticulate words of tenderness. 

‘‘ Amelie,” continued he, straining her still harder to his 
heart, your love is all I ask of heaven and of you. Give me 
that. I must have it, or live henceforth a man forlorn in the 
wide world. O say, darling, can you, do you care for me ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, indeed I do ! replied she, laying her arm over 
his neck, as if drawing him towards her with a timid move- 
ment, while he stooped and kissed her sweet mouth and 
eyes in an ecstasy of passionate joy. She abandoned her- 
self for a moment to her excess of bliss. “ Kiss me, dar- 
ling ! ” said he ; and she kissed him more than once, to 
express her own great love, and assure him that it was 
ail his own. 


FELICES TER ET AMPLIUS. 


315 


They sat in silence for some minutes ; her cheek lay 
upon his, as she breathed his name with many fond, fab 
tering expressions of tenderness. 

He felt her tears upon his face. “You weep, Amelie,’’ 
said he, starting up and looking at her cheeks and eyes 
suffused with moisture. 

“ I do, ’’ said she, “ but it is for joy ! O Pierre Phili- 
bert, I am so happy ! Let me weep now ; I will laugh 
soon. Forgive me if I have confessed too readily how much 
I love you ! ’’ 

“ Forgive you ! ffis I need forgiveness ; impetuous that 
I am to have forced this confession from you to-night. 
Those blessed words, ‘ Yes, indeed I do,’ — God’s finger 
has written them on my heart for ever. Never will I for- 
sake the dear lips which spake them, nor fail in all loving 
duty and affection to you, my Anidie, to the end of my 
life.” 

“ Of both our lives, Pierre,” replied she ; “ I can imag- 
ine no life, only death, separated from you. In thought 
you have alv/ays been with me from the beginning; my life 
and yours are henceforth one.” 

gave a start of joy. “ And you loved me before, 
Amelie ! ” exclaimed he. 

“ Ever and always, but irrevocably since that day of 
terror and joy when you saved the life of Le Gardeur, and 
I vowed to pray for you to the end of my life.” 

“ And during these long years in the convent, Amdlie, 
— when we seemed utterly forgotten to each other } ” 

“ You were not forgotten by me, Pierre ! I prayed for 
you, then, — earnest prayers for your safety and happiness, 
never hoping for more ; least of all anticipating such a 
moment of bliss as the present. O my Pierre, do not think 
me bold. You give me the right to love you, without 
shame by the avowal of your love to me.” 

“ Amelie ! ” exclaimed he, kissing her in an ecstacy of 
joy and admiration, “ what have I done — what can I 
ever do, to merit or recompense such condescension as 
your dear words express ? ” 

“ Love me, Pierre ! Always love me ! That is my 
reward ! That is all I ask, all my utmost imagination 
could desire.” 

“ And this little hand, Amelie, will be for ever mine } ” 

“ For ever, Pierre, and the heart along with it.” 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


316 

He raised her hand reverently to his lips and kissed it 
“ Let it not be long/’ said he. ‘‘ Life is too short to cur- 
tail one hour of happiness from the years full of trouble, 
which are most men’s lot.” 

‘‘ But not our lot, Pierre. Not ours. With you, I for- 
bode no more trouble in this life, and eternal joy in the 
next ! ” 

She looked at him, and her eyes seemed to dilate with 
joy. Her hand crept timidly up to his thick locks ; she 
fondly brushed them aside from his broad forehead, which 
she pressed down to her lips and kissed. 

“ Tell my aunt and Le Gardeur when we return home,” 
continued she. ‘‘ They love you, and will be glad — nay, 
overjoyed, to know that I am to be your — your — 

“ My wife ! — Amelie, thrice blessed words ! — O, say my 
wife ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, your wife, Pierre ! Your true and loving wife 
for ever.” 

“Forever! Yes. Love like ours is imperishable as 
the essence of the soul itself, and partakes, of the immor- 
tality of God, being of him and from him. The Lady de 
Tilly shall find me a worthy son, and Le Gardeur a true 
and faithful brother.” 

“ And you, Pierre 1 O, say it ; that blessed word has 
not sounded yet in rny ear — what shall I call you ? ” And 
she looked in his eyes, drawing his soul from its inmost 
depths by the magnetism of her look. 

“ Your husband j your true and loving husband, as you 
are my wife, Amelie.” 

“ God be praised I ” murmured she in his ear. “ Yes, 
my husband ! The blessed Virgin has heard my prayers.” 
And she pressed him in a fond embrace, while tears of joy 
flowed from her eyes. “ I am indeed happy 1 ” 

The words hardly left her lips when a sudden crash of 
thunder rolled over their heads and went pealing down the 
lake and among the islands, while a black cloud suddenly 
eclipsed the moon, shedding darkness over the landscape, 
which had just begun to brighten in her silvery rays. 

Amelie was startled, frightened, clinging hard to the 
breast of Pierre, as her natural protector. She trembled 
and shook as the angry reverberations rolled -away in the 
distant forests. “ Oh, Pierre ! ” exclaimed she, “ what is 
that.^ It is as if a dreadful voice came between us, for* 


FELICES TER ET A MELIUS. 


317 

bidding our union ! But nothing shall ever do that noWj 
shall it ? Oh, my love ! ’’ 

“ Nothing, Amelie. Be comforted,’’ replied he. “ It 
is but a thunder-storm coming up. It will send Le Gard- 
eur and all our gay companions quickly back to us, and 
we shall return home an hour sooner, that is all. Heaven 
cannot frown on our union, darling.” 

‘‘ I should love you all the same, Pierre,” whispered 
she. Amelie was not hard to persuade ; she was neither 
weak nor superstitious beyond her age and sex. But she 
had not much time to indulge in alarms. 

In a few minutes the sound of voices was heard ; the 
dip and splash of hasty paddles followed, and the fleet of 
canoes came rushing into shore like a flock of water-fowl 
seeking shelter in bay or inlet from a storm. 

There was a hasty preparation on all sides for depar- 
ture. The camp fires were trampled out, lest they should 
kindle a conflagration in the forest. The baskets were 
tossed into one of the large canoes. Philibert and Amelie 
embarked in that of Le Gardeur, not without many arch 
smiles and pretended regrets, on the part of some of the 
young ladies, for having left them on their last round of 
the lake. 

The clouds kept gathering in the south, and there was 
no time for parley. The canoes were headed down the 
stream, the paddles were plied vigorously : it was a race 
to keep a-head of the coming storm, and they did not quite 
win it. 

The black clouds came rolling over the horizon in still 
blacker masses, lower and lower, lashing the very earth 
with their angry skirts, which were rent and split with vivid 
flashes of lightning. The rising wind almost overpowered 
with its roaring the thunder that pealed momentarily 
nearer and nearer. The rain came down in broad, heavy 
splashes, followed by a fierce, pitiless hail, as if Heaven’s 
anger was pursuing them. 

Amelie clung to Philibert. She thought of Francisca 
da Rimini clinging to Paolo amidst the tempest of 
wind and the moving darkness, and uttered tremblingly 
the words, “ Oh, Pierre ! what an omen. Shall it be said 
of us as of them, Amor condusse noi ad una morte ? ” 
(“ Love has conducted us into one death.”) 

“ God grant we may one day say so,” replied he, pressing 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


318 

her to his bosom, ‘Svhen we have earned it by a long life 
of mutual love and devotion. But, now, cheer up, dar- 
ling ; we are home.” 

The canoes pushed madly to the bank. The startled 
holiday party sprang out ; servants were- there to help 
them. All ran across the lawn under the wildly tossing 
trees, and in a few moments, before the storm could over- 
take them with its greatest fury, they reached the Manor 
House, and were safe under the protection of its strong 
and hospitable roof. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

“ NO SPEECH OF SILK WILL SERVE YOUR TURN.” 

Angelique Des Meloises was duly informed, through 
the sharp espionage of Lizette, as to what had become 
of Le Gardeur after that memorable night of conflict 
between love and ambition, when she rejected the offer 
of his hand, and gave herself up to the illusions of her 
imagination. 

Still she loved Le Gardeur, with such love as she was 
capable of, but always subordinate to her selfish vanity ; 
and it was not without many sharp pangs of contrition that 
she remembered the cruel rejection of one whom she ad- 
mired and was proud of as the handsomest and most 
devoted of all men who had sought her favor. 

She was sorry, yet flattered, at Lizette’s account of his 
conduct at the Taverne de Menut ; for although pleased to 
think that Le Gardeur loved her to the point of self- 
destruction, she honestly pitied him, and felt, or thought 
she felt, that she could sacrifice anything, except herself, 
for his sake. 

Angelique pondered, in her own strange fitful way, over 
Le Gardeur. She had no thought of losing him wholly. 
She would continue to hold him in her silken string and 
keep him under the spell of her fascinations. She still 
admired him, — nay, loved him, she thought. She could 
not help doing so ; and if she could not help it where was 


NO SPEECH OF SILK;' ETC. 


319 


the blame ? She would not, to be sure, sacrifice for him 
the brilliant hopes which danced before her imagination 
like fire-flies in a summer night. For no man in the world 
would she do that. The Royal Intendant was the mark 
she aimed at. She was ready to go through fire and water 
to reach that goal of her ambition. But if she gave the 
Intendant her hand it was enough ; it was all she could 
give him, but not the smallest corner of her heart, which 
she acknowledged to herself belonged only to Le Gard- 
eur de Repentigny. 

While bent on accomplishing this scheme by every 
means in her power and which involved necessarily the 
ruin of Le Gardeur, she took a sort of perverse pride in 
enumerating the hundred points of personal and moral 
superiority possessed by him over the Intendant, and all 
others of her admirers. If she sacrificed her love to her 
ambition, hating herself while she did so, it was a sort of 
satisfaction to think that Le Gardeur’s sacrifice was not 
less complete than her own ; and she rather felt pleased 
with the reflection that his heart would be broken and 
no other woman would ever fill that place in his affections 
which she had once occupied. 

The days that elapsed after their final interview were 
days of vexation to Angelique. She was angry with herself, 
almost, angry with Le Gardeur that he had taken her at 
her word, and still more angry that she did not reap the 
immediate reward of her treachery against her own heart. 
She was like a spoiled and wilful child which will neither 
have a thing nor let it go. She would discard her lover 
and still retain his love ! and felt irritated and even jealous 
when she heard of his departure to Tilly with his sister, 
who had thus apparently more influence to take him away 
from the city, than Angelique had to keep him there. 

But her mind was especially worked upon almost to 
madness by the ardent professions of love, with the careful 
avoidance of any proposal of marriage on the part of the 
Intendant. She had received his daily visits with a deter- 
mination to please and fascinate him. She had dressed 
herself with elaborate care and no woman in New France 
equalled Angelique in the perfection of her attire. She 
studied his tastes in her conversation and demeanor, which 
were free beyond even her wont, because she saw that a 
manner bold and unconstrained took best with him. An- 


320 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


gelique’s free style was the most perfect piece of acting in 
the world. She laughed loudly at his wit, and heard with’ 
out blushes h’s douhh entefidres and coarse jests, not less 
coarse because spoken in the polished dialect of Paris. 
She stood it all, but with no more result than is left by a 
brilliant display of fireworks after it is over. She could 
read in the eager looks and manner of the Intendant that 
she had fixed his admiration and stirred his passions, but 
she knew by a no less sure intuition that she had not, with 
all her blandishments, suggested to his mind one serious 
thought of marriage. 

In vain she reverted to the subject of matrimony, in 
apjDarent jest but secret earnest. The Intendant, quick 
witted as herself would accept the challenge, talk with her 
and caracole on the topic which she had caparisoned so 
gayly for him, and amid compliments and pleasantries, ride 
away from the point, she knew not whither! Then Ange- 
lique would be angry after his departure, and swear, she 
could swear shockingly for a lady when she was angry 1 and 
vow she would marry Le Gardeur after all 1 but her pride 
was stung, not her love. No man had ever defeated her 
when she chose to subdue him, neither should this proud 
Intendant ! So Angelique collected her scattered forces 
again, and laid closer siege to Bigot than ever. 

The great ball at the Palais had been the object of 
absorbing interest to the fashionable society of the Capital 
for many weeks. It came on at last, turning the heads of 
half the city with its splendor which was remembered a 
score of years after when faded dames and powdered 
dowagers recounted with nodding heads to their daugh- 
ters, nieces and grand-daughters the great events of their 
youthful prime under the old regime, when they had the 
honor of dancing courtly minuets and lively cotillions with 
the gay Intendant Bigot. The old ladies never wearied of 
repeating with the natural exaggerations of vanity and the 
garrulity of old age, all the compliments he had paid 
their grace and beauty. More than one ancient dowager 
used to tell how at her first presentation at the Palace of 
the Intendant, Bigot had embraced her, as the fashion at 
Court then was, and clasping her slender waist with four 
fingers exclaimed in ecstacy : “ What a pretty handful of 
brunette ! ’’ or What a charming span round of blonde 1 ’’ 

The daughters and grand daughters of the old regime, 


NO SPEECH OF SILK^^ ETC. 


321 


laughed, Avinked and did not wonder that the ladies of the 
old times were in such ecstacies at the gallantry of the 
Intendant and almost ready to kill one another with envy 
and rivalry for his good graces ! 

Nor did the memory of the old dowagers fail to recall 
the names of the gentlemen who were present at this 
famous Ball of the Palais. Rich associates of the Grand 
Company, each one worth his millions, and how the girls 
struggled for them and pulled caps, so that even the hunch- 
back, Sieur Maurin, whose hunch was said to be made of 
gold, was carried off by the prettiest girl in St. Roch to the 
despair of a score of rivals ! and the Sieur de Penissault 
who married so charming and complaisant a wife that she 
consented to be sold to the Chevalier de Levis to save the 
incomparable fortune of her husband from confiscation ! 
The King’s officers of both army and navy were not for- 
gotten at the great ball, and their laced coats, silk stock- 
ings, buckles and gold epaulettes furnished fertile subjects 
for hours of exposition to the narrators of the splendor of 
former times when gay Versailles and not dull St. James 
set the fashions for New France. 

“ The Bourgeoisie were not permitted in those high 
caste days as now,” said Madame de Grandmaison, “ to 
tread upon the skirts of the noblesse! but had to content 
themselves with seats in the great gallery which ran round 
the ball room of the Palais, where they could look down 
with admiration and envy, upon the gay scene, and feast 
their longing eyes upon the enchanting enjoyments of their 
betters ! ” 

Angelique shone the acknowledged Queen of the Inten- 
dant’s ball. Her natural grace and beauty set off by the 
exquisite taste and richness of her attire threw into eclipse 
the fairest of her rivals. If there was one present who in 
admiration of her own charms, claimed for herself the first 
place, she freely conceded to Angelique the second. But 
Angelique feared no rival there. Her only fear was at 
Beaumanoir. She was profoundly conscious of her own 
superiority to all present, while she relished the envy and 
jealousy which it created. She cared but little what the 
women thought of her and boldly challenging the homage* 
'of the men obtained it as her rightful due. 

Still, under the gay smiles and lively badinage which 
she showered on all around as she moved through the 

21 


322 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


brilliant throng, Angdlique felt a bitter spirit of discon- 
tent rankling in her bosom. She was angry and she knew 
why, and still more angry because upon herself lay the 
blame ! Not that she blamed herself for having rejected 
Le Gardeur ; she had done that deliberately and for a price ; 
but the price was not yet paid ! and she had sometimes 
qualms of doubt whether it would ever be paid ! 

She who had had her own way with all men, now en- 
countered a man who spoke and looked like one who had 
had his own way with all women, and who meant to have 
his own way with her ! 

She gazed often upon the face of Bigot and the more 
she looked, the more inscrutable it appeared to her. She 
tried to sOund the depths of his thoughts, but her enquiry 
was like the dropping of a stone into the bottomless pit of 
that deep cavern of the dark and bloody ground talked of 
by adventurous voyageurs, from the far West. It went 
down and down, reverberating fainter and fainter as it 
descended, and never struck the bottom. Equally futile 
was Angelique’s questioning of the mind of Bigot. Under a 
glare of compliments and flattery, lay a dark unfathomable 
abyss of hidden purposes which defied her utmost scrutiny. 
She did well, she thought, to be angry and to nourish des- 
perate schemes in her heart. 

That Bigot admired her beyond all other women, at the 
ball, was visible enough from the marked attention which 
he lavished upon her and the courtly flatteries that flowed 
like honey from his lips. She also read her preeminence 
in his favor from the jealous eyes of a host of rivals 
who watched her every movement. But Angelique felt 
that the admiration of the Intendant was not of that kind 
which had driven so many men mad for her sake. She 
knew Bigot would never go mad for her, much as he was 
fascinated ! and why ? why ? 

Angelique, while listening to his honied flatteries as he 
led her gayly through the ball room, asked herself again 
and again : “ why did he carefully avoid the one topic that 
filled her thoughts or spoke of it only in his mocking man- 
ner which tortured her to madness with doubt and per- 
plexity ?’’ 

As she leaned on the arm of the courtly Intendant,' 
laughing like one possessed with the very spirit of gayety, 
at his sallies and jests, her mind was torn with bitter com- 


NO SPEECH OF SILH;’ ETC. 


323 


parisons as she remembered Le Gardeur, his handsome 
face and his transparent admiration so full of love and 
ready for any sacrifice for her sake, and she had cast it all 
away for this inscrutable voluptuary ! a man who had no 
respect for women, but who admired her person, condes- 
cended to be pleased with it, and affected to be caught by 
the lures she held out to him, but which she felt would be 
of no more avail to hold him fast, than the threads which 
a spider throws from bush to bush on a summer morn will 
hold fast a bird which flies athwart them. 

The gayest of the gay to all outward appearance. An- 
gelique missed sorely the presence of Le Gardeur, and she 
resented his absence from the ball, as a slight and a wrong 
to her sovereignty which never released a lover from his 
allegiance. 

The fair demoiselles at the Ball less resolutely ambi- 
tious than Angelique, found by degrees in the devotion of 
other cavaliers, ample compensation for only so much of 
the Intendant’s favor as he liberally bestowed on all the 
sex. But that did not content Angelique, she looked with 
sharpest eyes of inquisition upon the bright glances which 
now and then shot across the room where she sat by the 
side of Bigot, apparently steeped in happiness but with a 
serpent biting at her heart for she felt that Bigot was really 
unimpressible as a stone, under her most subtle manipu- 
lation. 

Her thoughts ran in a round of ceaseless repetition of 
the question : — ‘‘ Why can I not subdue Frangois Bigot as 
I have subdued every other man who exposed his weak 
side to my power ? ” and Angelique pressed her foot hard 
upon the floor as the answer returned ever the same. “ The 
heart of the Intendant is away at Beaumanoir ! That pale 
pensive lady,’’ (Angelique used a more coarse and empha- 
tic word,) “ stands between him and me ! like a spectre a^ 
she is, and obstructs the path I have sacrificed so much 
to enter ! ” 

“ I cannot endure the heat of the ballroom. Bigot ! ” 
said Angelique ; “ I will dance no more to night ! I would 
rather sit and catch fireflies on the terrace than chase for- 
ever without overtaking it the bird that has escaped 
from my bosom ! ” The Intendant ever attentive to her 
wishes, offered his arm to lead her into the pleached walks 
of the illuminated garden. Angelique rose, gathered up hei 


324 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


rich train, and with an air of Royal coquetry took his arm 
and accompanied the Intendant on a promenade down the 
grand alley of roses. 

What favorite bird has escaped from your bosom, 
Angelique ? asked the Intendant,. who had, however, a 
shrewd guess of the meaning of her metaphor. 

‘‘ The pleasure I had in anticipation of this ball ! the 
bird has flown, I know not where or how. I have no pleasure 
here at all ! exclaimed she, petulantly, although she knew 
the ball had been really got up mainly for her own pleasure. 

“ And yet Momus himself might have been your father, 
iiiid Euphrosyne your mother, Angelique,’’ replied Bigot, to 
judge by your gayety to night. If you have no pleasure, it is 
because you have given it all away to others ! But I have 
caught the bird you lost, let me restore it to your bosom 
pray ! ’’ He laid his hand lightly and caressingly upon 
her arm, her bosom was beating wildly, she removed his 
hand and hela it firmly grasped in her own. 

“ Chevalier ! said she, ‘‘ the pleasure of a king is in 
the loyalty of his subjects, the pleasure of a woman in the 
fidelity of her lovei 1 ” She was going to say more, but stop- 
ped. But she gave him a glance which insinuated more 
than all she left unsaid. 

Bigot smiled to himself : Angelique is jealous ! ” thought 
he, but he only remarked, That is an aphorism which I 
believe with all my heart 1 If the pleasure of a woman be 
in the fidelity of her lover, 1 know no one who should be 
more happy than Angelique des Meloises ! No lady in 
New France, has a right to claim greater devotion from a 
lover and no one receives it ! ” 

‘‘ But I have no faith in the fidelity of my lover ! and I am 
not happy, Chevalier ! far from it ! ” replied she, with one 
of those impulsive speeches that seemed frankness itself, 
"but in this woman were artful to a degree. 

‘‘ Why so ? ” replied he, pleasure will never leave you 
Angelique, unless you wilfully chase it away from your 
side ! All women envy your beauty, all men struggle to 
obtain your smiles. For myself I would gather all the 
joys and treasures of the world, and lay them at your feet, 
would you let me ! ” 

‘‘ I do not hinder you, Chevalier ! ” replied she with a 
laugh of incredulity, ‘‘ but you do not do it ! It is only your 
politeness to say that ! I have told you that the pleasure of a 


NO SPEECH OF SILK^^ ETC, 


325 

woman is in the fidelity of her lover, tell me now, Chevalier 
what is the highest pleasure of a man ? ’’ 

“ The beauty and condescension of his mistress ! at 
least I know none greater.” Bigot looked at her as if his 
speech ought to receive acknowledgment on the spot. 

“ And it is your politeness to say that also ! Chevalier ! ” 
replied she, very coolly. 

‘‘ I wish I could say of your condescension, Angelique, 
what I have said of your beauty ; Frangois Bigot would 
then feel the highest pleasure of a man.” The Intendant 
only half knew the woman he was seeking to deceive. She 
got angry. 

Angelique looked up with a scornful flash ! “ My con- 
descension, Chevalier? to what have I not condescended 
on fhe faith of your solemn promise that the lady of 
Beaumanoir should not remain under your roof ? She is 
still there ! Chevalier ! in spite of your promise ! ” 

Bigot was on the point of denying the fact, but there 
was sharpness in Angelique’s tone and clearness of all 
doubt in her eyes. He saw he would gain nothing by 
denial. 

“ She knows the whole secret, I do believe ! ” muttered 
he. “ Argus with his hundred eyes was a blind man com- 
pared to a woman’s two eyes sharpened by jealousy.” 

‘‘ The Lady of Beaumanoir accuses me of no sin, that 
I repent of ! ” replied he. “ True ! I promised to send her 
away, and so I will ; but she is a woman, a lady, who has 
claims upon me for gentle usage. If it were your case, 
Angelique — ” 

Angelique quitted his arm and stood confronting him, 
flaming with indignation. She did not let him finish his 
sentence. If it were my case. Bigot ! as if that could ever 
be my case, and you alive to speak of it ! ” 

Bigot stepped backwards. He was not sure but a 
poniard glittered in the clenched hand of Angelique. It 
was but the flash of her diamond rings as she lifted it 
suddenly. She almost struck him. 

“ Do not blame me for infidelities committed before 
I knew you, Angelique ! ” said he, seizing her hand which 
he held forcibly in his in spite of her efforts to wrench it 
away. “ It is my nature to worship beauty at every shrine. 
I have done so until I found the concentration of all my 
divinities in you. I could not, if I would, be unfaithful to 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


326 

you, Angdlique des Meloises ! Bigot was a firm believer in 
the classical faith ; that Jove laughs at lovers’ perjuries. 

“You mock me, Bigot! ” replied she. “ You are the only 
man who has ever dared to do so twice.” 

“ When did I mock you twice, Angelique ? ” asked he 
with an air of injured innocence. 

“ Now 1 and when you pledged yourself to remove the 
Lady of Beaumanoir from your house. I admire your 
courage, Bigot, in playing false with me and still hoping to 
win I But never speak to me more of love while that pale 
spectre haunts the secret chambers of the chateau 1 ” 

“ She shall be removed, Angelique, since you insist 
upon it, ” replied he, secretly irritated, “ but where is the 
harm ? I pledge my faith she shall not stand in the w^y of 
my love for you.” 

“ Better she were dead than do so ! ” whispered 
Angdlique to herself. “ It is my due. Bigot ! ” replied she 
aloud, “ you know what I have given up for your sake ! ” 

“Yes! I know you have banished Le Gardeur de 
Repentigny when it had been better to keep him securely 
in the ranks of the Grand Company. Why did you refuse 
to marry him, Angelique ? ” 

The question fairly choked her with anger. “ Why did 
I refuse to marry him ? Frangois Bigot ! Do you ask me 
seriously that question ? Did you not tell me of your own 
love and all but offer me your hand ? giving me to under- 
stand, miserable sinner that you are, or as you think me ^o 
be ! that you pledged your own faith to me, as first in 
your choice, and I have done that which I had better have 
been dead and buried with the heaviest pyramid of Egypt 
on top of me, buried without hope of resurrection, than 
have done ! ” 

Bigot accustomed as he was to woman’s upbraidings, 
scarcely knew what to reply to this passionate outburst. 
He had spoken to her words of love, plenty of them, but 
the idea of marriage had not flashed across his mind for a 
moment ; not a word of that had escaped his lips. He had 
as little guessed the height of Angelique’s ambition as she 
the depths of his craft and wickedness, and yet there 
was a wonderful similarity between the characters of 
both, the same bold defiant spirit, the same inordinate 
ambition, the same void of principle in selecting means 
to ends ; only the one fascinated with the lures of love, the 


NO SPEECH OF SILK;^ ETC. 


327 


other by the charms of wit, the temptations of money, or 
effected his purposes by the rough application of force. 

“ You call me rightly a miserable sinner,’’ said he, half 
smiling, as one not very miserable although a sinner. “ If 
love of fair women be a sin, I am one of the greatest of 
sinners ! and in your fair presence, Angelique, I am sinning 
at this moment, enough to sink a shipload of saints and 
angels.” 

‘‘You have sunk me in my own and the world’s estima- 
tion if you mean what you say. Bigot ! ” replied she unconsci- 
ously tearing in strips the fan she held in her hand. “ You 
love all women too well ever to be capable of fixing your 
heart upon one ! ” A tear, of vexation perhaps, stood in her 
angry eye . as she said this, and her cheek twitched with 
fierce emotion. 

“ Come, Angelique ! ” said he soothingly, “ some of our 
guests have entered this alley. Let us walk down to the 
terrace. The moon is shining bright over the broad river, 
and I will swear to you by St. Picaut, my patron, whom I 
never deceive, that my love for all woman kind has not 
hindered me from fixing my supreme affection upon you.” 

Angelique allowed him to press her hand, which he did 
with fervor. She almost believed his words. She could 
scarcely imagine another woman seriously preferred to her- 
self, when she chose to flatter a man with a belief of her 
own preference for him. 

They walked down a long alley brilliantly illuminated 
With lamps of Bohemian glass which shone like the dia- 
monds, rubies and emeralds which grew upon the trees' in 
the garden of Aladdin. 

At every angle of the geometrically cut paths of hard 
beaten sea shells, white as snow, stood the statue of a faun, 
a nymph or dryad in Parian marble, holding a torch, which 
illuminated a great vase running over with fresh blooming 
flowers presenting a vista of royal magnificence which bore 
testimony to the wealth and splendid tastes of the Tntend- 
ant. 

The garden walks were not deserted, their beauty drew 
out many a couple who sauntered merrily, or lovingly down 
the pleached avenues, which looked like the corridors of a 
gorgeously decorated palace. 

Bigot and Angelique moved among the guests, receiving 
as they passed obsequious salutations, which to Angelique 
seemed a foretaste of royalty. She had seen the gardens 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


328 

of the Palais many times before, but never illuminated as 
now. The sight of them so grandly decorated filled her 
with admiration of their owner, and she resolved that cost 
what it would, the homage paid to her to-night, as the part- 
ner of the Intendant, should become hers by right on his 
hearthstone as the first lady in New France. 

Angelique threw back her veil that all might see her, 
that the women might envy and the men admire her, as she 
leaned confidingly on the arm of Bigot, looking up in his 
face with that wonderful smile of hers which had brought 
so many men to ruin at her feet and talking with such 
enchantment as no woman could talk but Angelique des 
Meloises. 

Well understanding that her only road to success was 
to completely fascinate the Intendant, she bent herself to 
the task with such power of witchery and such simulation 
of real passion, that Bigot, wary and experienced gladiator 
as he was in the arena of love, was more than once brought 
to the brink of a proposal for her hand. 

She watched every movement of his features, at these 
critical moments when he seemed just falling into the 
snares so artfully set for him. When she caught his eyes 
glowing with passionate admiration, she shyly affected to 
withdraw them from his gaze, turning on him at times 
flashes of her dark eyes which electrified every nerve of 
his sensuous nature. She felt the pressure of his hand, 
the changed and softened inflections of his voice, she knew 
the words of her fate were trembling on his lips, and yet 
they did not come ! The shadow of that pale hand at 
Beaumanoir, weak and delicate as it was, seemed to lay 
itself upon his lips, when about to speak to her, and snatch 
away the words which Angelique, trembling with anticipa- 
tion, was ready to barter away body and soul to hear 
spoken. 

In a shady passage through a thick greenery where the 
lights Were dimmer and no one was near, she allowed his 
arm for a moment to encircle her yielding form, and she 
knew by his quick breath that the words were moulded in 
his thoughts, and were on the point to rush forth in a tor- 
rent of speech. Still they came not, and Bigot again, to 
her unutterable disgust, shied off like a full-blooded horse 
which starts suddenly away from some object by the way- 
side and throws his rider headlong on the ground. So again 
were dashed the ardent expectations of Angelique. 


NO SPEECH OF SILK;^ ETC, 


329 


She listened to the gallant and gay speeches of Bigot, 
which seemed to flutter like birds round her, but never lit 
on the ground where she had spread her net like a crafty 
fowler as she was, until she went almost mad with sup- 
pressed anger and passionate excitement. But she kept 
on replying with badinage light as his own, and with laugh- 
ter so soft and silvery, that it seemed a gentle dew from 
heaven, instead of the drift and flying foam of the storm 
that was raging in her bosom. 

She read and re-read glimpses of his hidden thoughts 
that went and came like faces in a dream, and she saw in 
her imagination the dark pleading eyes and pale face of 
the lady of Beaumanoir. It came now like a revelation, 
confirming a thousand suspicions that Bigot loved that 
pale, sad face too well, ever to marry Angelique des Mel- 
oises while its possessor lived at Beaumanoir — or while she 
lived at all ! 

And it came to that ! In this walk with Bigot round 
the glorious garden, with God’s flowers shedding fragrance 
around them ; with God’s stars shining overhead above all 
the glitter and illusion of the thousand lamps, Angelique 
repeated to herself the terrific words, “ Bigot loves that 
pale, sad face too well ever to marry me, while its possess- 
or lives at Beaumanoir — or while she lives at all ! ” 

The thought haunted her I It would not leave her ! 
She leaned heavily upon his arm, as she swept like a queeh 
of Cyprus through the flower-bordered walks, brushing the 
roses and lilies with her proud train and treading with as 
dainty a foot as ever bewitched human eye, the white 
paths that led back to the grand terrace of the palace. 

Her fevered imagination played tricks in keeping with 
her fear. More than once she fancied she saw the shadowy 
form of a beautiful woman walking on the other side of 
Bigot next his heart ! it was the form of Caroline bearing a 
child in one arm and claiming by that supreme appeal to 
-a man’s heart, the first place in his affections. 

The figure sometimes vanished, sometimes reappeared 
in the same place, and onc5 and the last time assumed the 
figure and look of Our Lady of St. Foye, triumphant after a 
thousand sufferings, and still ever bearing the face and 
look of the lady of Beaumanoir. 

Emerging at last from the dim avenue into the full light, 
where a fountain sent up showers of sparkling crystals, the 
figure vanished and Angelique sat down on a quaintly 


330 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


carved seat under a mountain ash, very tired and profound- 
ly vexed at all things and with everybody. 

A servant in gorgeous livery brought a message from 
the ball-room to the Intendant. 

* He was summoned for a dance, but he would not leave 
Angelique, he said. But Angelique begged for a short rest. 

It was so pleasant in the garden.” She would remain 
by the fountain. ‘‘ She liked its sparkling and splashing, it 
refreshed her ; the Intendant could come for her in half an 
hour ; she wanted to be alone ; she felt in a hard, unamia- 
ble mood,” she said, and he only made her worse by stop- 
ping with her when others wanted him, and he wanted 
others ! ” 

The Intendant protested in terms of the warmest 
gallantry, that he would not leave her, but seeing Angelique 
really desired at the present moment to be alone, and 
reflecting that he was himself sacrificing too much for the 
sake of one Goddess, while a hundred others were adorned 
and waiting for his offerings he promised in half an hour 
to return for her to this spot by the fountain, and proceeded 
towards the Palace. 

Angelique sat watching the play and sparkle of the 
fountain which she compared to her own vain exertions to 
fascinate the Intendant, and thought that her efforts had 
been just as brilliant and just as futile. 

* She was sadly perplexed. There was a depth in 
Bigot’s character which she could not fathom, a bottomless 
abyss into which she was falling and could not save her- 
self. Whichever way she turned the eidolon of Caroline 
met her as a bar to all further progress in her design upon 
the Intendant. 

The dim half vision of Caroline which she had seen in 
the pleached walk she knew was only the shadow and pro- 
jection of her own thoughts, a brooding fancy which she 
had unconsciously conjured up into the form of her hated 
rival. The addition of the child was the creation of the 
deep and jealous imaginings which had often crossed her 
mind. .She thought of that yet unborn pledge of a once 
mutual affection as the secret spell by which Caroline, pale 
and feeble as she was, still held the heart of the Intendant 
in some sort of allegiance. 

It is that vile, weak thing ! ” said she bitterly and 
angrily to herself, which is stronger than I. It is by 
that she excffes his pity and pity draws after it the renewal 


NO SPEECH OF SILIC” ETC. 


331 


of his love. If the hope of what is not yet, be so potent 
with Bigot, what will not the reality prove ere long ? The 
annihilation of all my brilliant anticipations ! I have 
drawn a blank in life’s lottery, by the rejection of Le Gar- 
deur for his sake ! It is the hand of that shadowy babe 
which plucks away the words of proposal from the lips of 
Bigot, which gives his love to its vile mother, and leaves to 
me the mere ashes of his passion, words which mean nothing, 
which will never mean anything but insult to Angelique 
des Meloises, so long as that woman lives to claim the 
hand which but for her would be mine ! ” 

Dark fancies fluttered across the mind of Angelique 
during the absence of the Intendant. They came like a flight 
of birds of evil omen, ravens, choughs and owls, the em- 
bodiments of wicked thoughts. But such thoughts suited 
her mood and she neither chid nor banished them, but let 
them light and brood and hatch fresh mischief in her soul. 

She looked up to see who was laughing so merrily while 
she was so angry and so sad, and beheld the Intendant 
jesting and toying with a cluster of laughing girls who had 
caught him at the turn of the broad stair of the Terrace. 
They kept him there in utter oblivion of Angelique ! 
Not that she cared for his presence at that moment or felt 
angry, as she would have done at a neglect of Le Gardeur, 
but it was one proof among a thousand others, that gallant 
and gay as he was among the throng of fair guests who 
were flattering and tempting him on every side, not one of 
them, herself included, could feel sure she had made an 
impression lasting longer than the present moment upon 
the heart of the Intendant. 

The company had for the most part left the garden to 
assemble again in the brilliant ballroom, where louder as 
the spirit of gayety waxed higher, rose the voluptuous 
strains of the orchestra, pouring out from its high gallery 
as from a volcano of harmony, the ravishing airs of Lulli 
and Destouches while the figures of the dancers glanced to 
and fro past the windows of the ball-room, which opened 
broad and evenly upon the Terrace. 

But Bigot had neither forgotten Angelique nor himself. 
His wily spirit was contriving how best to give an impetus 
to his intrigue with her without committing himself to any 
promise of marriage. He resolved to bring this beautiful 
but exacting girl wholly under his power. He comprehend- 
ed fully that Angelique was prepared to accept his hand at 


332 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


any moment, nay almost demanded it, but tlte price of 
marriage was what Bigot would not, dared not pay, and as a 
true courtier of the period he believed thoroughly in his 
ability to beguile any woman he chose and cheat her of 
the price she set upon her love. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE BALL AT THE INTENDANT^S PALACE. 

The bevy of fair girls still surrounded Bigot on the 
terrace stair. Some of them stood leaning in graceful 
pose upon the balusters. The wily girls knew his artistic 
tastes, and their pretty feet patted time to the music, while 
they responded with ready glee to the gossiping of the gay 
Intendant. 

Amid their idle badinage Bigot inserted an artful in- 
quiry for suggestion, not for information, whether it was 
true that his friend Le Gardeur de Repentigny, now at the 
Manor House of Tilly, had become affianced to his cousin 
Heloise de Lotbiniere ? There was a start of surprise and 
great curiosity at once manifested among the ladies, some 
of whom protested that it could not be true, for they* knew 
better in what direction Le Gardeur’s inclinations pointed. 
Others, more compassionate or more spiteful, with a 
touch of envy, said, ‘‘ they hoped it was true, for he had 
been jilted by a young lady in the city ! Whom they all 
knew!” added one sparkling demoiselle, giving herself a 
twitch, and throwing a side glance which mimicked so per- 
fectly the manner of the lady hinted at, that all knew in a 
moment she meant no other than Angelique des Meloises I 
They all laughed merrily at the conceit, and agreed that 
Le Gardeur de Repentigny would only serve the proud 
flirt right, by marrying Heloise, and showing the world how 
little he cared for Angelique. 

‘‘Or how much 1 ” suggested an experienced and lively 
widow, Madame La Touche. “ I think his marrying 
Heloise de Lotbiniere will only prove the desperate con- 
dition of his feelings. He will marry her, not because he 
loves her, but to spite Angelique. I have known such 
things done before,” added the widow, seriously, and the 
girls whispered to one another that she had done it her- 
self, when she married the Sieur La Touche out of sheer 


THE BALL AT THE LNTENDAHTS PALACE. 333 

vexation at not getting the Sieur de Marne, who took 
another woman for her money and left the widow to light 
fires where she could with her charms ! 

The Intendant had reckoned securely on the success of 
his ruse ; the words were scarcely spoken before a couple 
of close friends of Angelique found her out, and sitting 
one on each side, resting their hands on her shoulders, 
poured into her ears an exaggerated story of the coming 
marriage of Le Gardeur with Heloise de J^otbiniere ! 

Angelique believed them because it seemed the natural 
consequence of her own infidelity. False herself, she had 
no right to expect him to be true. Still loving Le Gardeur 
in spite of her rejection of him, it maddened her with 
jealousy to hear that another had taken that place in his 
affections where she so lately reigned supreme and alone. 
She was angry with him for what she called his ‘‘faithless- 
ness,”and still more angry at herself for being the cause of it ! 

Her friends who were watching her with all a woman’s 
curiosity and acuteness were secretly pleased to see that 
their news had cut her to the quick. They were not mis- 
led by the affected indifference and gay laughter which 
veiled the resentment which was plainly visible in her 
agitated bosom. 

Her two friends left her to report back to their com- 
panions, with many exaggerations and much pursing of 
pretty lips how Angelique had received their communication. 
They flattered themselves they had had the pleasure of 
first breaking the bad tidings to her, but they were mis- 
taken ! Angelique’s far reaching curiosity had touched 
Tilly with its antennae, and she had already learned of the 
visit of Heloise de Lotbiniere, an old school companion of 
her own, to the Manor House of Tilly. 

She had scented danger afar off from that visit. She 
knew that Heloise worshipped Le Gardeur, and now that 
Angelique had cast him off, what more natural than that he 
should fall at last into her snares — so Angelique scornfully 
termed the beauty and amiable character of her rival. She 
was angry without reason and she knew it. But that made 
her still more angry and with still less reason. 

Bigot ! ” said she, impetuousl}^, as the Intendant re- 
joined her when the half hour had elapsed, “ you asked me 
a question in the Castle of St. Louis, leaning op the high 
gallery which overlooks the cliffs ! Do you remember it 


334 


THE CHIEN HOE, 


“ I do ; one does not forget easily what one asks of a 
beautiful woman, and still less the reply she makes to us,’^ 
replied he, looking at her sharply, for he guessed her drift. 

Yet you seem to have forgotten both the question and 
the reply. Bigot. Shall I repeat them ’’ said she, with an 
air of affected languor. 

‘‘ Needless, Angelique ! and to prove to you the strength 
of my memory which is but another name for the strength 
of my admiration, I will repeat it. I asked you that night ; 
it was a glorious* night, the bright moon shone full in our 
faces as we looked over the shining river, but your eyes 
eclipsed all the splendor oE the heavens ; I asked you to 
give me your love — I asked for it then, Angelique ! I ask 
for it now.” 

Angelique was pleased with the flattery, even while she 
knew how hollow and conventional a thing it was. 

“ You said all that before. Bigot ! ” replied she, ‘‘ and 
you added a foolish speech, which I confess pleased me 
that night better than now. You said that in me you had 
found the fair haven of your desires, where your bark, 
long tossing in cross seas, and beating against adverse 
winds would cast anchor and be at rest. The phrase 
sounded poetical if enigmatical, but it pleased me some- 
how ; what did it mean. Bigot ? I have puzzled over it 
many times since — pray tell me ! ” 

Angelique turned her eyes like two blazing stars full 
upon him as if to search for every trace of hidden thought 
that lurked in his countenance. 

“ I meant what I said, Angelique, that in you I had 
found the pearl of price which I would rather call mine 
than wear a king’s crown.” 

You explain one enigma by another. The pearl of 
price lay there before you and you picked it up ! It had 
been the pride of its former owner, but you found it ere it 
was lost. What did you with it. Bigot V 

The Intendant knew as well as she, the drift of the 
angry tide, which was again setting in full upon him, but 
he doubted not his ability to escape. His real contempt 
for women was the lifeboat he trusted in, which had 
carried himself and fortunes out of a hundred storms and 
tempests of feminine wrath. 

“ I wore the precious pearl next my heart, as any gal- 
lant gentleman should do,” replied he blandly, I would 


THE BALL AT THE INTEND ANTS PALACE. 335 

have worn it inside my heart could I have shut it up 
there/’ - 

Bigot smiled in complacent self-approval at his own 
speech. Not so Angelique ! She was irritated by his gen- 
eral reference to the duty of a gallant gentleman to the sex 
and not to his own special duty as the admirer of herself. 

Angelique was like an angry pantheress at this mo- 
ment. The darts of jealousy just planted by her two friends 
tore her side, and she felt reckless both as to what she 
said and what she did. With a burst of passion not rare 
in women like her, she turned her wrath full upon him as the 
nearest object. She struck Bigot with her clenched hand 
upon the breast, exclaiming with wild vehemence : 

‘‘You lie ! Fran9ois Bigot, you never wore me next your 
heart, although you said so ! You wear the Lady of Beau- 
manoir next your heart. You have opened your heart to her 
after pledging it to me ! If I was the pearl of price, you 
have adorned her with it — my abasement is her glory ! ” 
Angelique’s tall, straight figure stood up, magnified with 
fury as she uttered this. 

The Intendant stepped back in surprise at the sudden 
attack. Had the blow fallen upon his face, such is human 
nature, Bigot would have regarded it as an unpardonable 
insult, but falling upon his breast, he burst out in a loud 
laugh as he caught hold of her quivering hand, which she 
plucked passionately away from him. 

The eyes of Angelique looked dangerous and full of 
mischief, but Bigot was not afraid or offended. In truth 
her jealousy flattered him, applying it wholly to himself. 
He was, moreover, a connoisseur in female temper ; he 
liked to see the storm of jealous rage, to watch the rising 
of its black clouds, to witness the lightning and the thun- 
der, the gusts and whirlwinds of passion, followed by the 
rain of angry tears, when the tears were on his account. 
He thought he had never seen so beautiful a Fury as An- 
gelique was at that moment. 

Her pointed epithet,“ you lie ! ” which it would have been 
death for a man to utter, made no dint on the polished 
armor of Bigot, although he inly resolved that she should 
pay a woman’s penalty for it. 

He had heard that word from other pretty lips before, 
but it left no mark upon a conscience that was one stain, 
upon a life that was one fraud. Still his bold spirit rather liked 


THE CHIEH D'OR. 


33 ^ 

this bold utterance from an angry woman, when it was in 
his power by a word to change her rage into the tender 
cooing of a dove. 

Bigot was by nature a hunter of women, and preferred 
the excitement of^a hard chase when the deer turns at bay, 
and its capture gave him a trophy to be proud of, to the 
dull conquest of a tame and easy virtue, such as were most 
of those which had fallen in his way. 

“Angelique ! ’’ said he, ‘‘this is perfect madness ; what 
means this burst of anger ? Do you doubt the sincerity of 
my love for you ? ’’ 

‘‘ I do. Bigot ! I doubt it and I deny it. So long as you 
keep a mistress concealed at Beaumanoir, your pledge to 
me is false and your love an insult.’’ 

You are too impetuous and too imperious, Ang^lique ! 
I have promised you she shall be removed from Beaumanoir 
and she shall — ” 

Whither, and when } ” 

‘‘To the city, and in a few days — she can live there in 
quiet seclusion. I cannot be cruel to her, Angelique.” 

“ But you can be cruel to me. Bigot, and will be unless 
you exercise the power which I know is placed in your 
hands by the king himself.” 

“ What is that, to confiscate her lands and goods if she 
had any?” 

“ No, to confiscate her person ! Issue a /eUre de cachet 
and send her over sea to the Bastile.” 

Bigot was irritated at this suggestion, and his irritation 
was narrowly watched by Angelique. 

“ I would rather go to the Bastile myself ! ” exclaimed 
he, “ besides the king alone issues lettres de cachet. It is a 
royal prerogative, only to be used in matters of state.” 

“ And matters of love, Bigot ! which are matters of state 
in France ! Pshaw ! as if I did not know that the king del- 
egates his authority and gives lettres de cachet in blank to 
his trusted courtiers, and even to the ladies of his court. 
Did not the Marquise de Pompadour send Mademoiselle 
Vaubernier to the Bastile for only smiling upon the king? 
It is a small thing I ask of you. Bigot, to test your fidelity, 
you cannot refuse me, come ! ” added she, with a wondrous 
transformation of look and manner from storm and gloom 
to warmth and sunshine. 

“ I cannot and will not do it. Hark you, Angelique, 


THE BALL A T THE LNTENDANTB PALACE. 337 

I dare not do it ! Powerful as I may seem, the family of 
that lady is too potent to risk the experiment upon. I 
would fain oblige you in this matter, but it would be the 
height of madness to do so.’^ 

“Well then. Bigot, do this, if you will not do that! 
Place her in the convent of the Ursulines. It will suit her 
and me both. No better place in the world to tame an 
unruly spirit. She is one of the pious souls who will be at 
home there, with plenty of prayers and penances, and 
plenty of sins to pray for every day.’’ 

“ But I cannot force her to enter the convent, Angelique. 
She will think herself not good enough to go there ; besides 
the nuns themselves would have scruples to receive her.” 

“ Not li yotc request her admission of Mere de la Nativ- 
ite. The lady superior will refuse no application of yours, 
Bigot.” 

“Won’t she! but she will ! The Mere de la Nativite 
considers me a sad reprobate, and has already when I 
visited her parlor read me a couple of sharpest homilies 
on my evil ways, as she called them. The venerable Mere 
de la Nativite will not carry coals, I assure you, Angelique.” 

“ As if I did not know her ! ” replied she impatiently, 
“ why she screens with all her authority that wild nephew 
of hers, the Sieur Varin. Nothing irritates her like hearing 
a bad report of him, and although she knows all that is 
said of him to be true as her breviary, she . will not admit 
it. The soetirs converses in the laundry were put on bread 
and water with prayers for a week, only for repeating some 
gossip they had heard concerning him.” 

“ Aye ! that is because the venerable Mere Superior is 
touchy on the point of family — but I am not her nephew, 
voild la differ ance the song says.” 

“ Well ! but you are her nephew’s master and pat- 
ron,” replied Angelique, “ and the good Mere will strain 
many points to oblige the Intendant of New France for 
sake of the Sieur Varin. You do not know her as I do. 
Bigot.” 

“ What do you advise, Angelique ? ” asked he, curious 
to see what was working in her brain. 

“ That if you will not issue a lettre de cachet^ you shall 
place the Lady of Beaumanoir in the hands of the Mere 
de la Nativite with instructions to receive her into the com- 
munity after the shortest probation.” 

22 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


338 


Very good, Angelique ! But if I do not know the 
Mere Superior, you do not know the Lady of Beaumanoir. 
There are reasons why the nuns would not and could not 
receive her at all — even were she willing to go, as I think 
she would be. But I will provide her a home suited to her 
station in the city, only you must promise to speak to me 
no more respecting her.^^ 

“ I will promise no such thing. Bigot ! ’’ said Angelique, 
firing up again at the failure of her crafty plan for the dis- 
posal of Caroline, “ to have her in the city will be worse 
than to have her at Beaumanoir.” 

Are you afraid of the poor girl, Angelique ; you, with 
your surpassing beauty, grace and power over all who ap- 
proach you ? She cannot touch you ! ” 

“ She has touched me, and to the quick, too, already,” 
she replied, coloring with passion. You love that girl, 
Frangois Bigot ! I am never deceived in men. You love 
her too well to give her up, and still you niake love to me ; 
what am I to think ? ” 

“ Think that you women are able to upset any man’s 
reason, and make fools of us all to your own purposes. 
Bigot saw the uselessness of argument ; but she would not 
drop the topic. 

“ So you say, and so I have found it with others,” re- 
plied she, but not with you. Bigot. But I shall have been 
made the fool of, unless I carry my point in regard to this 
lady.” 

“Well, trust to me, Angelique. Hark you : there are 
reasons of state connected with her. Her father has pow- 
erful friends at Court, and I must act warily. Give me 
your hand ; we will be friends. I will carry out your 
wishes to the farthest possible stretch of my power. I can 
say no more.” 

Angdlique gave him her hand. She saw she could not 
carry her point with the Intendant, and her fertile brain 
was now scheming another way to accomplish her ends. 
She had already undergone a revulsion of feeling, and 
repented having carried her resentment so far ; not that 
she felt it less, but she was cunning and artful, although 
her temper sometimes overturned her craft, and made 
wreck of her schemes. 

“ I am sorry 1 was so angry. Bigot, as to strike you 
with this feeble hand.” Angelique smiled as she extended 


THE BALL AT THE LNTENDAHHS PALACE. 339 

her dainty fingers, which, delicate as they were, had the 
strength and elasticity of steel. 

Not so feeble, either, Angelique ! ’’ replied he,laiighing, 
“few men could plant a better blow. You hit me on the 
heart fairly, Angelique.’^ 

He seized her hand, and lifted it to his lips. Had 
Queen Dido possessed that hand^ she would have held fast 
^neas himself, when he ran away from his engagements. 

Angelique pressed the Intendant’s hand with a grasp 
that left every vein bloodless. . “ As I hold fast to you. Bi- 
got, and hold you to your engagements, thank God that 
you are not a woman ! If you were, 1. think I should kill 
you. But as you are a man, I forgive, and take your 
promise of amendment. It is what foolish women al- 
ways do ! ’’ 

The sound of the music and the measured tread of 
feet in the lively dances were now plainly heard in the 
pauses of their conversation. 

They rose and entered the ball-room. The music 
ceased, and recommenced a new strain for the Intendant 
and his fair partner, and for a time Angelique forgot her 
wrath in the delirious excitement of the dance. 

She possessed in an eminent degree the power of hiding 
her ungracious moods under a mask of deceit impene- 
trable. With a chameleon-like faculty she could assume 
the complexion of the company that surrounded her, when 
it suited her purpose to do so. 

But in the dance her exuberance of spirits overflowed 
like a fountain of intoxicating wine. She cared not for 
things past or future, in the . ecstatic joy of the present. 

Her voluptuous beauty, lissomeness and grace of move- 
ment enthralled all eyes with admiration, as she danced 
with the Intendant, who was himself no mean votary of 
Terpsichore. A lock of her long golden hair broke loose, 
and streamed in wanton disorder over her shoulders ; but 
she heeded it not, — carried away by the spirit of the dance, 
and. the triumph of present possession of the courtly In- 
tendant. Her dainty feet flashed under her flying robe, 
and seemed scarcely to touch the floor, as they kept time 
to the swift throbbings of the music. 

The Intendant gazed with rapture on his beautiful part- 
ner, as she leaned upon his arm in the pauses of the dance, 
and thought more than once that the world would be well 


340 


THE CHIEN’ n OR, 


lost for sako of such a woman. It was but a passing 
fanc)'-, however, the serious mood passed away, and he 
was weary, long before Angelique, of the excitement and 
breathless heat of a wild Polish dance, recently first heard 
of in French society. He led her to a seat, and left her in 
the centre of a swarm of admirers, and passed into an al- 
cove to cool and rest himself. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

“on with the dance.” 

Bigot, a voluptuary in every sense, craved a change 
of pleasure. He was never satisfied long with one, however 
pungent. He felt it as a relief when Angelique went off 
like a laughing sprite upon the arm of De Pean. “ I am 
glad to get rid of the women sometimes, and feel like a 
man,” he said to Cadet, who sat drinking and telling stories 
with hilarious laughter to two or three boon companions, 
and indulging in the coarsest jests and broadest scandal 
about the ladies at the ball, as they passed by the alcove 
where they were seated. 

The eager persistence of Angelique in her demand for 
a lettre de cachet to banish the unfortunate Caroline, had 
wearied and somewhat disgusted Bigot. 

“ I would cut the throat of any man in the world for 
the sake of her bright eyes,” said he to himself, as she gave 
him a parting salute with her handkerchief ; “ but she must 
not ask me to hurt that poor foolish girl at Beaumanoir. 
No, by St. Picot ! she is hurt enough already, and I will 
not have Angelique tormenting her ! What merciless crea- 
tures women are to one another. Cadet ! ” said he, aloud. 

Cadet looked up with red, inflamed eyes, at the remark 
of Bigot. He cared nothing for women himself, and never 
hesitated to show his contempt for the whole sex. 

“ Merciless creatures, do you call them, Bigot ! the 
claws of all the cats in Caen could not match the finger- 
nails of a jealous woman — still less her biting tongue 


ON WITH THE DANCE: 


“ And they are all either envious or jealous, I believe, 
Cadet,’’ replied Bigot, laughing. 

“ Either envious or jealous ! ” exclaimed Cadet, contemp- 
tuously ; they are all both the one and the other, tame cats 
in their maudlin affections, purring and rubbing against you 
one moment, wild cats in their anger, flying at you and 
drawing blood the next, ^sop’s fable of the cat turned 
woman, who forsook her bridal bed to catch a mouse, is as 
true of the sex as if he had been their maker. 

“ All the cats in Caen could not have matched Pretiosa, 
eh. Cadet ? ” replied Bigot, with allusion to a nocturnal 
adventure, from which Cadet had escaped, like Fabius, 
discincta tunica. “ Pretiosa proved to an ocular demonstra- 
tion that no wild cat’s claws can equal the nails of a jeal- 
ous woman.” 

The Intendant’s quip roused the merriment of the 
party, and Cadet, who gloried in every shame, laughed 
loudest of them all. 

Sauve qui pent I Bigot,” ejaculated he, shaking his 
lusty sides. “ I left some of my hair in the fingers of 
Pretiosa, but there was no help for it. I was as hand- 
somely tonsured as the Abbe de Bernis ! But wait, Bigot, 
until your own Pretiosa overtakes you on the road to ruin, 
in company with — don’t twitch me, Martel, you are drunk ! 
Bigot does not care a fig what we say.” 

This was addressed to his companion, who stood some- 
what in awe of the Intendant, but needlessly, as Cadet 
well knew ; for among his familiars Bigot was the most 
free of boon companions. He delighted in the coarsest 
allusions, and was ever ready to give and take the broadest 
personal gibes with good humor and utter indifference to 
character or reputation. 

The Intendant, with a loud explosion of laughter, sat 
down to the table, and holding out a long-stemmed goblet 
of Beauvais to be filled with sparkling wine, replied gaily : 

‘‘You never spoke a truer word. Cadet, though you did 
not know it ! My Pretiosa yonder,” said he, pointing to 
Angelique, who flashed by in the dance, “ would put to 
his trumps the best player in Paris to win the odd trick of 
her — and not count by honors, either ! ” 

“ But you will win the odd trick of that girl yet. Bigot, 
and not count by honors, either ! or I know nothing of 
women,” replied Cadet, bluntly. “ They are all alike, only 


342 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


some are more likely. The pipers of Poictiers never played 
a spring that Angelique des Meloises would not dance to ! 
Look at De Pean, how pleased he is with her ! She is 
fooling him to his very finger ends. He believes she is 
dancing with him, and all the time she is dancing to nobody 
but you^ Bigot !” 

“Well, I rather admire the way she leads De Pean 
such a dance ! She makes a jolly fool of him, and she 
knows I see it, too.” 

“ Just like them all ! full of deceit, as an egg of Satan 
is full of mischief ! Damn them all ! Bigot ! A man is 
not worth his salt in the world, until he. has done with the 
women !” 

“You are a Cynic! Cadet,” replied Bigot, laughing. 
“ Diogenes in his tub would call you brother, and ask you 
to share his house. But Athens never produced a girl 
like that. Aspasia and Thais were not fit to light her to 
bed.” 

“ Angelique will go without a light, or I am mistaken, 
Bigot ! But it is dry talking, take another glass of Cham- 
pagne, Bigot 1 ” Cadet with a free hand filled for Bigot 
and the others. The wine seemed gradually to mollify his 
harsh opinion of the sex. 

“I know from experience, Bigot,” continued he after he 
had drank, “ that every man is a fool once at least in his 
lifetime to women, and if you lose your wits for Angelique 
des Meloises, why she is pretty enough to excuse you. 
Now that is all I have got to say about her ! Drink again, 
Bigot ! ” 

Angelique whirled again past the alcove, without look- 
ing in except by a glance so quick and subtle, that Ariel 
herself could not have caught it. She saw the eyes of the 
Intend ant following her motions, and her feet shot a thou- 
sand scintillations of witchery, as her robe fluttered and 
undulated round her shapely limbs, revealing beauties which 
the freedom of the dance allowed to flash forth without 
censure, except on the part of a few elderly matrons who 
sat exchanging comments, and making comparisons be- 
tween the looks and demeanor of the various dancers. 

“ Observe the Intendant, Madame Couillard ! ” exclaim- 
ed Madame de Grandmaison. “ He has not taken his 
eyes off Angelique des Meloises for the last ten minutes, 
and she knows it ! the forward minx ! She would not 


ON WITH THE DANCE: 


343 


dance with such zest, merely to please the Chevalier de 
Pean, whom she hates. I think the Intendant would look 
better on the floor dancing with some of our girls,, who are 
waiting for the honor, instead of drinking wine and rivet- 
ing his eyes upon that piece of assurance ! ” 

“ I quite agree with you, Madame de Grandmaison,” 
replied Madame Couillard, who having no daughters to 
bring out, could view the matter more philosophically than 
her friend. “ But they say the Intendant particularly 
admires a fine foot and ankle in a woman ! ’’ 

‘‘ I think so, by the way he watches her’s,’’ was the tart 
reply, “ and she humors his taste too ! Angelique is vain 
of her foot as she is of her face. She once vexed the entire 
convent, by challenging them all, pupils, nuns and postu- 
1 antes to match the perfect symmetry of her foot and leg ! 
She would make the world her footstool when she came 
out ! she told them, and she laughed in the face of the ven- 
erable Mere de la Nativite, who threatened her with heavy 
penances to atone for the wicked words she uttered.’^ 

And she defies the world still, as she used to defy 
the convent,’’ replied Madame Couillard, quite genteelly 
shocked. Look at her now, did you ever see such abandon^ 
and how the gentlemen all admire her ! Well, girls have 
no shame now a days ! I am glad I have no daughters, 
Madame de Grandmaison ! ” 

This was a side shot of Madame Couillard at her friend, 
and it went home. Madame Couillard never scrupled 
to make a target of a friend, if nothing better offered. 
“ Nieces are just as bad as daughters ! Madame Couillard ! ” 
replied the matron, bridling up and directing a half scornful 
look at a group of lively girls, who were engaged in a des- 
perate flirtation upon the seats farthest under the gallery, 
and as they supposed well out of sight of their keen chap- 
erone, who saw them very well, however, but being satisfied 
with the company they were in, would not see more of 
them than the occasion called for ! Madame Couillard 
had set her mind upon bestowing the care and charge of 
her troublesome nieces upon young De la Roque and the 
Sieur de Bourget, she was therefore delighted to see her 
pretty brace of mancatchers running down the game so 
handsomely. 

The black eyed girls, gay as Columbines, and crafty as 
their aunt herself, plied their gallants with a very fair imi* 


344 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


tation of the style and manner of Angelique, as the 'most 
effectual mode of ensnaring the roving fancies of their 
gallants. They all hated Angelique cordially for the airs 
they accused her of putting on, and still more for the suc- 
cess of her airs, but did their utmost, nevertheless, to 
copy her peculiar style, and so justified by this feminine 
homage, her claim to look down upon them with a sort of 
easy superiority, as the Queen of fashion in the gay society 
of the capital. 

“ Angelique likes to dance with the Chevalier de 
Pean ! replied Madame Couillard, quickly turning the 
conversation to less personal ground. ‘‘ She thinks that 
his ugliness sets off her own attractions to greater advan- 
tage ! That is why she dances with him ! ’’ 

“ And well may she think so ! for an uglier man than 
the Chevalier de Pea'n is not to be found in New France. 
My daughters all think so too ! ” replied Madame de 
Grandmaison, who felt with some resentment that her own 
daughters had been slighted by the rich though ugly Chev- 
alier de Pean. 

“Yes, De Pean avoided them all the evening, although 
they looked their eyes out the way he was,’’ thought 
Madame Couillard to herself, but spoke in her politest 
manner. 

“ But he is rich they say as Croesus, and very influen- 
tial with the Intendant ! Few girls now-a-days would mind 
his ugliness any more than Angelique, for the sake of his 
wealth ! But Angelique knows she is drawing the eyes of 
the Chevalier Bigot after her. That is enough for her ! She 
would dance with a Hobgoblin to charm the Intendant, 
with her pretty paces ! ” 

“ She has no shame ! I would cut the feet off my girls 
if they presumed to step striding about as she does,” re- 
plied Madame de Grandmaison, with a look of scorn on 
lip and eyebrow. “ I always taught my daughters a 
chaste and modest demeanor, I trained them properly 
when young. I used in Creole fashion to tie their ankles 
together with a ribbon when in the house, and never per- 
mitted them to exceed the length of two spans at a step. 
It is that gives the nice tripping walk which the gentlemen 
so much admire, and which everyone notices in my girls 
and in myself, Madame Couillard ! I learned the secret in 
the Antilles, where the ladies all learn to walk like angels.” 


ON WITH THE NANCE: 


345 


“ Indeed ! I often wondered how the Demoiselles 
Grand maisons had acquired that nice tripping step of 
theirs, which makes them so distinguished simong the Ifauf 
tons of the city ! said Madame Couillard with an imper- 
ceptible sneer. “ I did not know they had been to walk- 
ing school ! ’’ 

“ Is it not admirable ? You see, Madame Couillard, gen- 
tlemen are often more taken by the feet than by the face.” 

“ I dare say when the feet are the better feature of the 
two ! But men are such dupes, Madame Grandmaison ! 
Some fall in love with an eye, some with a nose, or a curl, 
a hand, an ankle, and as you remark, a foot ; few care for a 
heart, for it is not seen. I know one gentleman who was 
caught by the waft of a skirt against his knee ! ” and 
Madame Couillard laughed at the recollection of some 
past incident in her own days of love making. 

“ A nice gait is indeed a great step in feminine educa- 
tion ! ” was the summing up of the matter by Madame 
Grandmaison. ‘‘ It is the first lesson in moral propriety, 
and the foundation of all female excellence ! I have im- 
pressed its importance with all my force upon the good 
Ursulines, as being worthy of a foremost place in their 
programme of studies for young ladies entrusted to their 
pious care, and have some hope of its being adopted by 
them. If it is, future generations of our girls will walk like 
angels on clouds, and not step out like race-horses in the 
fashion of Angelique des Meloises.” 

This was very ill-natured of Madame Grandmaison. 
Sheer envy in fact ! for her daughters were at that moment 
attitudinizing their best in imitation of Angelique’s graceful 
movements. 

x\ngelique des Meloises swept past the two matrons 
in a storm of music, as if in defiance of their sage criti- 
cisms. Her hand rested on the shoulder of the Chevalier 
de Pean, while hating the touch of him. She had an ob- 
ject which made her endure it, and her dissimulation was 
perfect. Her eyes transfixed his with their dazzling look. 
Her lips were wreathed in smiles ; she talked continually 
as she danced, and with an inconsistency which did not 
seem strange in her, was lamenting the absence from the 
ball of Le Gardeur de Repentigny. 

“ Chevalier,” said she, in reply to some gallantry of 
her partner, most women take pride in making sacrifices 


'THE CHIEN D' OR. 


346 

of themselves ; I prefer to sacrifice my admirers. I like 
a man, not in the measure of what I do for him, but what 
he will do for me. Is not that a candid avowal, Chevalier ? 
You like frankness, you know.’’ 

Frankness and the Chevalier de Pean were unknown 
quantities together; but he was desperately smitten, and 
would bear any amount of snubbing from Angelique. 

You have something in your mind you wish me to 
do,” replied he, eagerly. “ I would poison my grand- 
mother, if you asked me, for the reward you could give 
me.” 

‘‘Yes, I have something in my mind, Chevalier, but 
not concerning your grandmother. Tell me why you 
allowed Le Gardeur de Repentigny to leave the city } ” 

“I did not allow him to leave the city,” said he, twitch- 
ing his ugly features, for he disliked the interest she ex- 
pressed in Le Gardeur. “ I would fain have kept him here 
if I could. The Intendant, too, had desperate need of 
him. It was his sister and Colonel Philibert who spirited 
him away from us.” 

“ Well, a ball in Quebec is not worth twisting a curl 
for in the absence of Le Gardeur de Repentigny ! ” replied 
she. “ You shall promise me to bring him back to the city, 
Chevalier, or I will dance with you no more.” • 

Angelique laughed so gayly as she said this that a 
stranger would have interpreted her words as all jest. 

“ She means it, nevertheless,” thought the Chevalier. 
“ I will promise my best endeavor. Mademoiselle,” said he, 
setting hard his teeth, with a grimace of dissatisfaction, 
which did not escape the eye of Angelique. “ Moreover, the 
Intendant desires his return on affairs of the Grand Com- 
pany, and has sent more than one message to him already, 
to urge his return.” 

“ A fig for the Grand Company ! Remember, it is / 
desire his return ; and it is my command, not the Intend- 
ant’s, which you are bound, as a gallant gentleman, to 
obey.” Angelique would have no divided allegiance, and 
the man who claimed her favors must give himself up body 
and soul, without thought of redemption. 

She felt very reckless and very wilful at this moment. 
The laughter on her lips was the ebullition of a hot and angry 
heart, not the play of a joyous, happy spirit. Bigot’s re- 
fusal of a /t’Ure de cachet had stung her pride to the quick^ 


“ ON WITN THE DANCET 347 

and excited a feeling of resentment, which found its ex- 
pression in the wish for the return of Le Gardeur. 

“ Why do you desire the return of Le Gardeur ? ’’ 
asked De Pean, hesitatingly. . Angelique was often too 
frank by half, and questioners got from her more than they 
liked to hear. 

“ Because he was my first admirer, and I never forget 
a true friend, Chevalier,’’ replied she, with an undertone of 
fond regret in her voice. 

“ But he will not be your last admirer,” replied De 
Pean, with what he considered a seductive leer, which 
made her laugh at him. ‘‘ In the kingdom of love, as in 
the kingdom of heaven, the last shall be first, and the first 
last. May J be the last. Mademoiselle ? ” 

“ You will certainly be the last, De Pean ; I promise 
that.” Angelique laughed provokingly. She saw the eye 
of the Intendant watching her. She began to think he 
remained longer in the society of Cadet than was due to 
herself. 

“ Thanks, Mademoiselle,” said De Pean, hardly know- 
ing whether her laugh was affirmative or negative ; ‘‘but 
I envy Le Gardeur his precedence.” 

Angelique’s love for Le Gardeur was the only key 
which ever unlocked her real feelings. When the fox 
praised the raven’s voice and prevailed on her to sing, he 
did not more surely make her drop the envied morsel out 
of her mouth than did Angelique drop the mystification 
she had worn so coquettishly before De Pean. 

“ Tell me, De Pean,” said she, “ is it true or not that 
Le Gardeur de Repentigny is consoling himself among the 
woods of Tilly with a fair cousin of his, Heloise de Lot- 
biniere ? ” 

De Pean had his revenge, and he took it. “ It is true, 
and no wonder,” said he, “ they say Heloise is, without ex- 
ception, the sweetest girl in New France, if not one of the 
handsomest.” 

“ Without exception ! ” echoed she, scornfully. “ The 
women will not believe that, at any rate, Chevalier. I do 
not believe it for one.” And she laughed in the conscious- 
ness of beauty. “ Do you believe it ? ” 

“ No, that were impossible,” replied he, “ while Ange- 
lique des Meloises chooses to contest the palm of beauty.” 

“ I contest no palm with her, Chevalier ; but I give you 


THE CHIEN ,D' OR. 


348 

this rosebud for your gallant speech. But, tell me, what 
does Le Gardeur think of this wonderful beauty ? Is there 
any talk of marriage ? ’’ 

“ There is, of course, much talk of an alliance.” De 
Pean lied, and the truth had been better for him. 

Angelique started as if stung by a wasp. The dance 
ceased for her, and she hastened to a seat. De Pean,” 
said she, you promised to bring Le Gardeur forthwith 
back to the city; will you do it? ” 

“ I will bring him back, dead or alive, if you desire it ; 
but I must have time. That uncompromising Colonel 
Philibert is with him. His sister, too, clings to him like a 
good angel to the skirt of a sinner. Since you desire it ” 
— De Pean spoke it with bitterness — Le Gardeur shall 
come back, but I doubt if it will be for his benefit or yours, 
Mademoiselle.” 

“ What do you mean, De Pean ? ” asked she, abruptly, 
her dark eyes alight with eager curiosity, not unmingled 
with apprehension. Why do you doubt it will not be for 
his benefit or mine ? Who is to harm him ? ” 

Nay, he will only harm himself, Angelique. And, by 
St. Picot ! he will have ample scope for doing it in this 
city. He has no other enemy but himself.” De Pean felt 
that she was making an ox of him to draw the plough of 
her scheming. 

“ Are you sure of that, De Pean ? ” demanded she, 
sharply. 

‘‘ Quite sure. Are not all the associates of the Grand 
Company his fastest friends? Not one of them will hurt 
him, I am sure.” 

“ Chevalier De Pean ! ” said she, noticing the slight 
shrug he gave when he said this, “ You say Le Gardeur 
has no enemy but himself ; if so, I hope to save him from 
himself, nothing more. Therefore, I want him back to the 
city.” 

De Pean glanced towards Bigot. ‘‘ Pardon me. Made- 
moiselle. Did the Intendant never speak to you of Le 
Gardeur's abrupt departure ? ” asked he. 

Never ! He has spoken to you though. What did 
he say ? ” asked she, with eager curiosity. 

“ He said that you might have detained him had you 
wished, and he blamed you for his departure.” 

De Pean had a suspicion that Angelique had really 


dN WITH THE DANCE: 


349 


been instrumental in withdrawing Le Garcleur from the 
clutches of himself and associates ; but in this he erred. 
Angelique loved Le Gardeur, at least for her own sake if 
not for his, and would have preferred he should risk all the 
dangers of the city to avoid what she deemed the still 
greater dangers of the country ; and the greatest of these 
in her opinion was the fair face of Heloise de Lotbiniere. 
While, from motives of ambition, Angelique refused to 
marry him herself, she could not bear the thought of 
another getting the man whom she had rejected. 

De Pean was fairly puzzled by her caprices. He could 
not fathom, but he dared not oppose them. 

At this moment Bigot, who had waited for the CQii- 
clusion of a game of cards, rejoined the group where she 
sat. 

Angelique drew in her robe and made room for him 
beside her, and was presently laughing and talking as free 
from care, apparently, as an oriole warbling on a summer 
spray. De Pean courteously withdrew, leaving her alone 
with the Intendant. 

Bigot was charmed for the moment into oblivion of the 
lady who sat in her secluded chamber at Beaumanoir. 
He forgot his late quarrel with Angelique in admiration 
of her beauty. The pleasure he took in her presence shed 
a livelier glow of light across his features. She observed 
it and a renewed hope of triumph lifted her into still 
higher flights of gayety. 

‘‘ Angelique,” said he, offering his arm to conduct her 
to the gorgeous buffet which stood loaded with golden 
dishes of fruit, vases of flowers, and the choicest con- 
fectionary, with wine fit for a *feast of Cyprus, “ you are 
happy to-night,” are you not, ‘‘ but perfect bliss is only 
obtained by a judicious mixture of earth and heaven, 
pledge me gayly now in this golden wine, Angelique, and 
ask me what favor you will.” 

‘‘ And you will grant it ?” asked she, turning her eyes 
upon him eagerly. 

‘‘ Like the king in the fairy tale, even to my daughter 
and half of my kingdom,” replied he, gayly. 

“Thanks for half the kingdom, Chevalier,” laughed 
she ; “ but I would prefer the father to the daughter.” 
Angdlique gave him a look of ineffable meaning, “I do 
not desire a king to-night, however. Grant me the lettre dt 
cachet^ and then — ” 


350 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


And then what, Angelique ? ” He ventured to take 
her hand which seemed to tempt the approach of his. 

‘‘ You shall have your reward. I ask you for a lettre de 
cachet^ that is all.’’ She suffered her hand to remain in 
his. 

I cannot,” he replied sharply to her urgent repe- 
tition. “ Ask her banishment from Beaumanoir, her life if 
you like, but a lettre de cachet to send her to the Bastile 
I cannot and will not give ! ” 

“ But I ask it, nevertheless ! ” replied the wilful, pas- 
sionate girl, there is no merit in your love if it fears 
risk or brooks denial ! You ask me to make sacrifices, and 
will not lift your finger to remove that stumbling block 
out of my way ! A fig for such love, Chevalier Bigot ! If I 
were a man there is nothing in earth, heaven, or hell I 
would not do for the woman I loved ! ” 

Angelique fixed her blazing eyes full upon him, but 
magnetic as was their fire, they drew no satisfying reply. 
“ Who in Heaven’s name is this lady of Beaumanoir of 
whom you are so careful or so afraid ? ” 

I cannot tell you, Angdlique,” said he, quite irritated, 
‘‘ she may be a runaway nun, or the wife of the man in 
the iron mask, or — ” 

Or any other fiction you please to tell me in the stead 
of truth, and which proves your love to be the greatest 
fiction of all ! ” 

‘‘ Do not be so angry, Angelique,” said he, soothingly, 
seeing the need of calming down this impetuous spirit, 
which he was driving beyond all bounds. But he had 
carelessly dropped a word which she picked up eagerly 
and treasured in her bosom. Her life ! — he said he would 
give me her life ! did he mean it.^ ” thought she, absorbed 
in this new idea. 

Angelique had clutched the word with a feeling of 
terrible import. It was not the first time the thought had 
flashed its lurid light across her mind. It had seemed 
of comparatively light import when it was only the 
suggestion of her own wild resentment. It seemed a 
word of terrible power heard from the lips of Bigot, yet 
Angelique knew well he did not in the least seriously 
mean what he said. 

“ It is but his deceit and flattery,” she said to herself, an 
idle phrase to cozen a woman. I will not ask him to explain 


ON WITH THE DANCE: 


351 


it, I shall interpret it in my own way ! Bigot has said words 
he understood not himself ; it is for me to give them form 
and meaning.” 

She grew quiet under these reflections and bent her 
liead in seeming acquiescence to the Intendant’s decision. 
The calmness was apparent only. 

“You are a true woman, Angelique,” said he, “but no 
politician: you have never heard thunder at Versailles. 
Would that I dared to grant your request. I offer you 
my homage and all else I have to give you to half my 
kingdom.” 

Angelique’s eyes flashed fire. “ It is a fairy tale after 
all ! ” exclaimed ; she “ you will not grant the lettre de 
cachet ? ” 

“ As I told you before, I dare not grant that, Angelique ; 
anything else — ” 

“You dare not! you the boldest Intendant ever sent 
to New France, and say you dare not! A man who is 
worth the name dare do anything in the world for a woman 
if he loves her, and for such a man a true woman will kiss 
the ground he walks on and die at his feet if need be ! ” 
Angelique’s thoughts reverted for a moment to Le 
Gardeur, not to Bigot, as she said this, and thought how 
he would do it for her sake if she asked him. 

“ My God, Angelique, you drive this matter hard, but 
I like you better so, than when you are* in your silkiest 
humor.” 

“ Bigot, k were better you had granted my request.” 
Angelique clenched her fingers hard together, and a cruel 
expression lit her eyes for a moment. It was like the 
glance of a Lynx seeking a hidden treasure in the ground. 
It penetrated the thick walls of Beaumanoir. She sup- 
pressed her anger, however, lest Bigot should guess the 
dark imaginings and half formed resolution which brooded 
in her mind. 

With her inimitable power of transformation she put on 
her air of gayety again and exclaimed : “ Pshaw ! let it go. 
Bigot. I am really no politician as you say, I am only a wom- 
an almost stifled with the heat and closeness of this horrid 
ballroom. Thank God, day is dawning in the great east- 
ern window yonder, the dancers are beginning to depart, 
My brother is waiting for me, I see, so I must leave you, 
Chevalier.” 


352 


THE CHIEN nOR, 


Do not depart just now, Angelique ! wait until 
breakfast, which will be prepared for the latest guests.” 

“ Thanks, Chevalier,” said she, I cannot wait. It has 
been a gay and delightful ball — to them who enjoyed it.” 

Among whom you were one, I hope,” replied Bigot. 

‘‘ Yes, I only wanted one thing to be perfectly happy, 
and that I could not get, so I must console myself,” said 
she, with an air of mock resignation. 

Bigot looked at her and laughed, but he would not ask 
what it was she lacked. He did not want a scene, and 
feared to excite her wrath by mention again of the lettre de 
cachet, 

‘‘ Let me accompany you to the carriage, Angelique,” 
said he, handing her cloak and assisting her to put it on. 

‘‘Willingly, Chevalier,” replied she coquettishly, “but 
the Chevalier de Pean will accompany me to the door of 
the dressing-room. I promised him.” She had not, but 
she beckoned with her finger to him. She had a last 
injunction for De Pean which she cared not that the 
Intendant should hear. 

De Pean was reconciled by this manoeuvre, he came, 
and Angelique and he tripped off together. “ Mind, De 
Pean, what I asked you about Le Gardeur !” said she, in 
an emphatic whisper. 

“ I will not forget,” replied he with a twinge of 
jealousy, “ Le Gardeur shall come back in a few days or 
De Pean has lost his influence and cunning.” 

Angelique gave him a sharp glance of approval, but 
made no further remark. A crowd of voluble ladies were 
all telling over the incidents of the ball as exciting as any 
incidents of flood and field while they arranged themselves 
for departure. 

The ball was fast thinning out. The fair daughters of 
Quebec, with disordered hair and drooping wreaths, loose 
sandals and dresses looped and pinned to hide chance 
rents or other accidents of a long night^s dancing, were 
retiring to their rooms or issuing from them, hooded and 
mantled, attended by obsequious cavaliers to accompany 
them home. 

The musicians tired out and half asleep drew their 
bows slowly across their violins, the very music was steep- 
ed in weariness. The lamps grew dim in the rays of 
morning, which struggled through the high windows, 


CALLING A RA VENOUS BIRD;^ ETC, 


353 


Vv'hile mingling with the last strains of good night and 
hon repos^ came a noise of wheels and .the loud shouts of 
valets and coachmen out in the fresh air, who crowded 
round the doors of the palace to convey home the gay 
revellers who had that night graced the splendid halls of 
the Intendant. 

Bigot stood at the door bowing farewell and thanks to 
the fair company, when the tall queenly figure of Angelique 
came down leaning on the arm of the Chevalier de Peah, 
Bigot tendered her his arm, which she at once accepted, 
and he accompanied her to her carriage. 

She bowed graciously to the Intendant and De Pean, 
on her departure, but no sooner had she driven off, than, 
throwing herself back in her carriage, heedless of the 
presence of her brother who accompanied her home, sunk 
into a silent train of thoughts from which she was roused 
with a start, when the carriage drew up sharply at the 
door of their own home. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

“calling a ravenous bird from the east.” 

Angelique scarcely noticed her brother except to bid 
him good night, when she left him in the vestibule of the 
mansion. Gathering her gay robes in her jewelled hand 
she darted up the broad stairs to her own apartment, the 
same in which she had received Le Gardeur on that memor- 
able night in which she crossed the Rubicon of her fate, 
when she deliberately severed the only tie which would 
have bound her to virtue and honor, by seeking the happi- 
ness of Le Gardeur above all considerations of self. 

There was a fixedness in her look and a recklessness 
in her step that showed anger and determination. It 
struck Lizette with a sort of awe, so that for once, she did 
not dare to accost her young mistress with her usual free- 
dom. The maid opened the door and closed it again with- 
out offering a word, waiting in the ante-room until a sum- 
mons should come from her mistress. 

^3 


354 


THE CHIEN 'HOR, 


Lizette observed that she had thrown herself mto a 
fauteuil, after hastily casting off her mantle which lay at 
her feet. Her long hair hung loose over her shoulders 
it parted from all its combs and fastenings. She held her 
hands clasped hard across her forehead and stared witl 
fixed eyes upon the fire which burned low on the hearth 
flickering in the depths of the antique fireplace and occa 
sionally sending a flash through the room which lit up the 
pictures on the wall seeming to give them life and move- 
ment, as if they, too, would gladly have tempted Angelique 
to better thoughts. But she noticed them not, and would 
not at that moment have endured to look at them. 

Angelique had forbidden the lamps to be lighted. It 
suited her mood to sit in the half obscure room, and in 
truth her thoughts were hard and cruel, fit only to be 
brooded over in darkness and alone. We are influenced 
by an inscrutable instinct, if the term may be used, to make 
our surroundings an image of ourselves, the outward pro- 
jection of our habitual thoughts, moods and passions. 

The broad glare of the lamps would have been at this 
moment hateful to Angelique. The lurid flickering and 
flashing of the dim firelight resembled most her own 
thoughts and as her vivid fancy fastened its eye upon the 
embers, they seemed to change into images of all the 
evil things her imagination projected. She clenched her 
hands and raising them above her head, muttered an oath 
between her teeth, exclaiming : 

Par Dieu ! It must be done ! It must be done ! ” 
She stopped suddenly when she had said that. “ What 
must be done } ” asked she sharply of herself, and laughed 
a mocking laugh. ‘‘ He gave me her life ! He did not 
mean it ! no ! The Intendent was treating me like a petted 
child. He offered me her life while he refused me a lettre 
de cachet ! The gift was only upon his false lips, not in his 
heart ! but Bigot shall keep that promise in spite of him- 
self. There is no other way — none — ! 

In the upheaval of her troubled mind, the image of her 
old confessor. Father Vimont, rose up for a moment with 
signs of warning in his lifted finger, as when he used to 
reprove her for venial sins and childish follies. Angelique 
turned away impatiently from the recollection. She would 
not, in imagination e\^en, lay hold of the spiritual hand, 
which seemed to reach forward to pluck her from the 
chasm toward which she was hurrying. 


“ CALLING A EA VENOUS BIRD;^ ETC. 


355 


This was a new world Angelique suddenly found her- 
self in. A world of guilty thoughts and unresisted temp- 
tations, a chaotic world where black, unscalable rocks', like 
a circle of the Liferrio hemmed her in on every side, while 
devils whispered in her ears the words which gave shape 
and substance to her secret wishes for the death of her 
‘‘ rival,” as she regarded the poor sick girl at Beaumanoir. 

■ How was she to accomplish it } To one unpractised in 
actual deeds of wickedness, it was a question not easy to 
be answered, and a thousand frightful forms of evil, stalking 
shapes of death came and went before her imagination, 
and she clutched first at one, then at another of the dire 
suggestions that came in crowds that overwhelmed her 
power of choice. 

In despair to find an answer to the question, ‘‘ What 
must be done 1 ” she rose suddenly and rang the bell. 
The door opened and the smiling face and clear eye of 
Lizette looked in. It was Angelique’s last chance, but it 
was lost. It was not Lizette she had rung for. Her reso- 
lution was taken. 

“ My dear mistress ! ” exclaimed Lizette, ‘‘ I feared you 
had fallen asleep. It is almost day ! May I now assist you 
to undress for bed ? Voluble Lizette did not always wait 
to be first spoken to by her mistress. 

“ No Lizette, I was not asleep ; I do not want to un- 
dress ; I have much to do. I have writing to do before I 
retire j send Fanchon Dodier here.” Angelique had a 
forecast that it was necessary to deceive Lizette, who, with- 
out a word, but in no serene humor went to summon Fan- 
chon to wait on her mistress. 

Fanchon presently came in with a sort of triumph glit- 
tering in her black eye. She had noticed the ill humor of 
Lizette, but had not the slightest idea why she had been 
summoned to wait on Angelique, instead of her own maid. 
She esteemed it quite an honor, however. 

“ Fanchon Dodier ! ” said she, “ I have lost my jewels 
at the ball ; I cannot rest until I find them ; you are 
quicker witted than Lizette, tell me what to do to find them 
and I will give you a dress fit for a lady.” 

Angelique with innate craft knew that her question 
would bring forth the hoped for reply. 

Fanchon’s eyes dilated with pleasure at such a mark of 
confidence. ‘‘Yes, my Lady,” replied she, “if I had lost 


THE CHI END' OR. 


356 

my jewels I should know what to do. But ladies who can 
read and write and who have the wisest gentlemen to give 
them counsel do not need to seek advice where poor habitant 
girls go when in trouble and perplexity.’^ 

‘‘ And where is that, Fanchon ? where would you go if 
in trouble and perplexity ? ” 

“ My Lady, if I had lost all my jewels,” — Fanchon’s 
keen eye noticed that Angelique had lost none of . hers, 
but she made no remark on it, if I had lost all mine, 

I should go see my Aunt Josephte Dodier. She is the 
wisest woman in all St. Valier. If she cannot tell you, all 
you wish to know, nobody can.” 

‘‘What! Dame Josephte Dodier, whom they call La 
Corriveau ? Is she your aunt ? ” 

Angelique knew very well she was. But it was her cue 
to pretend ignorance in order to impose on Fanchon. 

“ Yes, ill natured people call her La Corriveau, but she 
is my aunt nevertheless. She is married to my uncle 
Louis Dodier, but is a lady, by right of her mother, who 
came from France, and was once familiar with all the great 
dames of the Court. It was a great secret why her mother 
left France, and came to St. Valier ] but I never knew what 
it was. People used to shake their heads and cross them- 
selves when speaking of her, as they do now when speaking 
of Aunt Josephte, whom they call La Corriveau ; but they 
tremble when she looks at them with her black evil eye, as 
they call it. She is a terrible woman, is Aunt Josephte 1 
but O, Mademoiselle, she can tell you things past, present, 
and to come. If she rails at the world, it is because she 
knows every wicked thing that is done in it, and the world 
rails at her in return ; but people are afraid of her all the 
same.” 

“ But is it not wicked ? Is it not forbidden by the 
church to consult a woman like her, a sorciere ? Ange- 
lique took a sort of perverse merit to herself for arguing 
against her own resolution. 

“Yes, my lady! but although forbidden by the church, 
the girls all consult her, nevertheless, in their losses and 
crosses ; and many of the men, too, for she does know what 
is to happen, and how to do things, does Aunt Josephte. 
If the clergy cannot tell a poor girl about her sweetheart, 
and how to keep him in hand, why should she not go and 
consult La Corriveau, who can ? ” 


357 


“ CALLAVG A RAVENOUS BIRD;' ETC. 

Fanchon, I would not care to consult your aunt. 
People would laugh at my consulting La Corriveau, like a 
simple habitant girl ; what would the world say ? 

“ But the world need not know, my Lady. Aunt Jose- 
phte knows secrets they say, that would ruin, burn, and 
hang half the ladies of Paris. She learned those terrible 
secrets from her mother, but she keeps them safe in those 
close lips of hers. Not the faintest whisper of one of them 
has ever been heard by her nearest neighbor. Indeed she 
has no gossips, and makes no friends, and wants none. 
Aunt Josephte is a safe confidante, my Lady, if you wish to 
consult her.” 

“ I have heard she is clever, supernatural, terrible, this 
aunt of yours ! But I could not go to St. Valier for advice 
and help, I could not conceal my movements like a plain 
habitant girl.” 

“ Indeed, my Lady,” replied Fanchon, touched by some 
personal reminiscence, ‘‘a habitant girl cannot conceal 
her movements any more than a great lady. A girl cannot 
stir a step but all the Parish is looking at her ! If she 
goes to church and just looks across at a young man they 
say she went to see him ! If she stays away they say she 
is afraid to see him. If she visits a neighbor it is in the 
hope of meeting him. If she remains at home it is to wait 
for him ; but habitant gu\s do not care, my lady. If they 
throw the net they catch the fish sometimes ! So it 
matter’s not what people say and in revenge we talk about 
others as fast as others talk about us.” 

‘‘ But, my lady,” continued Fanchon, remembering the 
objection of her mistress, “ it is not fitting that you should 
go to Aunt Josephte. I will bring Aunt Josephte here to 
you. She will be charmed to come to the city and serve a 
lady like you.” 

‘‘ Well ! no ! it is not well ; but ill ! but I want to recov- 
er my jewels, so go for your Aunt and bring her back with 
you. And mind, Fanchon ! ” said Angelique, lifting a warn- 
ing finger, “ if you utter one word of your errand to man 
or beast or to the very trees of the way side, I will cut 
out your tongue, Fanchon Dodier ! ” 

Fanchon trembled and grew pale at the fierce look of 
her mistress. ‘‘ I will go^ my lady, and I will keep silent as 
a fish ! ” faltered the maid, “ Shall I go immediately ? ” 

“ Immediately if you will ! It is almost day and you 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


358 

have far to go. I will send old Gujon the butler to order an 
Indian canoe for you. I will not have Canadian boatmen 
to row you to St. Valier ; they would talk you out of all your 
errand before you were half way there. You shall go to St. 
Valier by water and return with La Corriveau by land. Do 
you understand ? Bring her in to-night and not before 
midnight. I will leave the door ajar for you to enter with- 
out noise ; you will show her at once to my apartment 
Fanchon ! Be wary and do not delay, and say not a 
word to mortal ! 

■ “ I will not, my Lady. Not a mouse shall hear us come 
in ! ’’ replied Fanchon, quite proud now of the secret under- 
standing between herself and her mistress. 

“ And again mind that loose tongue of yours ! Remember 
Fanchon, I will cut it out as sure as you live if you betray 
me.’’ 

“ Yes, my lady ! ” Fanchon’s tongue felt somewhat 
paralysed under the threat of Angelique, and she bit it 
painfully as if to remind it of its duty. 

“ You may go now,” said Angelique. “ Here is money for 
you. Give this piece of gold to La Corriveau as an earnest 
that I want her ! The Canotiers of the St. Lawrence will 
also require double fare for bringing La Corriveau over the 
ferry. 

‘‘No, they rarely venture to charge her anything at all, 
my Lady,” replied Fanchon ; “ to be sure it is not for love, 
but they are afraid of her. And yet Antoine La Chance, the 
boatman, says she is equal to a Bishop for stirring up piety ; 
and more Ave Marias are repeated when she is in his 
boat than are said by the whole Parish on Sunday. 

“ I ought to say my Ave Marias, too ! ” replied Angelique, 
as Fanchon left the apartment. “ But my mouth is parched 
and burns up the words of prayer like a furnace, but that 
is nothing to the fire in my heart ! That girl, Fanchon 
Dodier, is not to be trusted, but I have no other messenger 
to send for La Corriveau. I must be wary with her too 
and make her suggest the thing I would have done. My 
Lady of Beaumanoir ! ” she apostrophized in a hard mono- 
tone, “your fate does not depend on the Intendant as you 
fondly imagine. Better had he issued the lettre de cachet 
than for you to fall into the hands of La Corriveau ! ” 

Daylight now shot into the windows and the bright rays 
of the rising sun streamed full in the face of Angelique. 


CALLING A RAVENOUS BIRD;^ ETC. 


-359 


She saw herself reflected in the large Venetian mirror. Her 
countenance looked pale, stern and fixed as marble. The 
fire in her eyes startled her with its unearthly glow. She 
trembled and turned away from her mirror and crept to her 
couch like a guilty thing with a feeling as if she was old, 
haggard and doomed to shame for the sake of this Intend- 
ant, who cared not for her, or he would not have driven 
her to such desperate and wicked courses as never fell to 
the lot of a woman before.’’ 

‘‘ Cest la fautea lui ! C’est la faute a liii exclaimed 
she, clasping her hands passionately together. If she 
dies, it is his fault not mine ! I prayed him to banish her, 
and he would not ! Oest la faute a lui ! Oest la faute a lui ! 
Repeating these words Angelique fell into a feverish slum- 
ber, broken by frightful dreams which lasted far on into 
the day. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

LA CORRIVEAU. 

The long reign of Louis Quatorze, full of glories and 
misfortunes for France, was marked towards its close by a 
portentous sign indicative of corrupt manners and a falling 
state. Among these the crimes of secret poisoning sudden- 
ly attained a magnitude which filled the whole nation with 
terror and alarm. 

Antonio Exili, an Italian, like many other alchemists 
of that period, had spent years in search of the philosopher’s 
stone and the elixir of life. His vain experiments to trans- 
mute the baser metals into gold reduced him to poverty 
and want. His quest after these secrets had led him to study 
deeply the nature and composition of poisons and their 
antidotes. He had visited the great universities and other 
schools of the continent, finishing his scientific studies 
under a famous German Chemist named Glaser. But the 
terrible secret of the Aqua Tofana and of the Poudre de 
succession., Exili learned from Beatrice Spara, a Sicilian, 
with whom he had a liaison, one of those inscrutable beings 
of the gentler sex whose lust for pleasure or power is only 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


360 

equalled by the atrocities they are willing to perpetrate 
upon all who stand in the way of their desires or their 
ambition. 

To Beatrice Spara, the secret of this subtle prepara- 
tion had come down like an evil inheritance from the an- 
cient Candidas and Saganas of imperial Rome. In the 
proud palaces of the Borgias, of the Orsinis, the Scaligers, 
the Borromeos, the art of poisoning was preserved among 
the last resorts of Machiavellian statecraft ; and not only in 
palaces but in by streets of Italian cities ; in solitary towers 
and dark recesses of the Appenines were still to be found 
the lost children of science, skilful compounders of poisons, 
at once fatal and subtle in their operation — ^poisons which 
left not the least trace of their presence in the bodies of 
their victims, but put on the appearance of other and more 
natural causes of death. 

•Exili, to escape the vengeance of Beatrice Spara, to 
whom he had proved a faithless lover, fled from Naples 
and brought his deadly knowledge to Paris, where he soon 
found congenial spirits to work with him in preparing the 
deadly poudre de succession^ and the colorless drops of the 
Aqua Tofana, 

With all his crafty caution, Exili fell at last under sus- 
picion of the police, for tampering in these forbidden arts. 
He was arrested and thrown into the Bastile, where he be- 
came the occupant of the same cell with Gaudin de St. 
Croix, a young nobleman of the Court, the lover of the 
Marchioness de Brinvilliers, for an intrigue with whom the 
Count had been imprisoned. St. Croix learned from Exili, 
in the Bastile, the secret of the poudre de succession. 

The two men were at last liberated for want of proof of 
he charges against them. St. Croix set up a laboratory 
in his own house, and at once proceeded to experiment 
upon the terrible secrets learned from Exili, and which he 
revealed to his fair, frail mistress, who, mad to make her- 
self his wife, saw in these a means to remove every obstacle 
out of the way. She poisoned her husband, her father, her 
brother, and at last, carried away by a mania for murder, 
administered on all sides the fatal poiidre de succession which 
brought death to House, Palace and Hospital, and filled 
the capital, nay the whole kingdom with suspicion and ter- 
ror. 

This fatal poison history describes as either a light and 


“ CALLING A RA VENOUS BIRD, ETC. 361 

almost impalpable powder, tasteless, colorless and inodor- 
ous, or a liquid clear as a dew drop, when in the form of 
the Aqua Tofana. It was capable of causing death either 
instantaneously or by slow and lingering decline at the end 
of a definite number of days, weeks, or even months, as 
was desired. Death was not less sure because deferred, and 
it could be made to assume the appearance of dumb paraly- 
sis, wasting atrophy, or burning fever at the discretion of 
the compounder of the fatal poison. 

The ordinary effect of the Aqua Tofana was immediate 
death. The poudre de succession was more slow in killing. 
It produced in its pure form a burning heat, like that of a 
fiery furnace in the chest, the flames of which, as they con- 
sumed the patient, darted out of his eyes, the only part of 
the body which seemed to be alive, while the rest was little 
more than a dead corpse. 

Upon the introduction of this terrible poison into 
France, Death, like an invisible spirit of evil, glided silently 
about the kingdom, creeping into the closest family circles, 
seizing everywhere on its helpless victims. The nearest 
and dearest relationships of life were no longer the safe- 
guardians of the domestic hearth. The man who to-day 
appeared in the glow of health, drooped to-morrow and 
died the next day. No skill of the physician was able to 
save him, or to detect the true cause of his death, attribut- 
ing it usually to the false appearances of disease which it 
was made to assume. 

The victims of the poudre de succession were counted by 
thousands. The possession of wealth, a lucrative office, a 
fair young wife, or a coveted husband, were sufficient rea- 
sons for sudden death to cut off the holder^of these envied 
blessings. A terrible mistrust pervaded all classes of so- 
ciety. The husband trembled before his wife, the wife be- 
fore her husband, father and son, brother and sister, kind- 
red and friends of all degrees, looked askance and with 
suspicious eyes upon one another. 

In Paris the terror lasted long. Society was for a 
while broken up by cruel suspicions. The meat upon the 
table remained uneaten, the wine undrank, men and women 
procured their own provisions in the market, and cooked 
and ate them in their own apartments. Yet was every pre- 
caution in vain. The fatal dust scattered upon the pillow, 
or a bouquet sprinkled with the Aqua Tofaiia looking 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


362 

bright and innocent as God^s dew upon the flowers, trans 
mitted death without .a warning of danger. Nay, to crown 
all summit of wickedness, the bread in the hospitals of the 
sick, the meagre tables of the Convent, the consecrated 
host, administered by the priest, and the sacramental wine 
which he drank himself, all in turn were poisoned, polluted, 
damned, by the unseen presence of the manna of St. Nich- 
olas, as the populace mockingly called the poudre de suc- 
cession. 

The Court took the alarm, when a gilded vial of the 
Aqua Tofana was found one day upon the table of the Du- 
chesse de la Valiere, having been placed thereby the hand 
of some secret rival, in order to cast suspicion upon the 
unhappy Louise, and hasten her fall already approaching. 

The star of Montespan was rising bright in the East 
and that of La Valiere was setting in clouds and darkness 
in the West. But the king never distrusted for a moment 
the truth of La Valiere, the only woman who ever loved 
him for his own sake, and he knew it even while he allowed 
her to be supplanted by another infinitely less worthy — one 
whose hour of triumph came when she saw the broken- 
hearted Louise throw aside the velvet and brocade of the 
Court and put on the sackcloth of the barefooted and re- 
pentant Carmelite. 

The king burned with indignation at the insult offered 
to his mistress, and was still more alarmed to find the new 
mysterious death creeping into the corridors of his palace. 
He hastily constituted the terrible Chambre Ardenfe, a court 
of supreme criminal jurisdiction, and commissioned it to 
search out, try and burn without appeal, all poisoners and 
secret assassins in the kingdom. 

La Regnie, a man of Rhadamanthean justice, as hard 
of heart as he was subtle and suspicious, was long baffled, 
and to his unutterable rage, set at naught by the indefati- 
gable poisoners who kept all France awake on its pillows. 

History records how Gaudin de St. Croix, the disciple 
of Exili, while working in his secret laboratory at the sub- 
limation of the deadly poison, accidentally dropped the 
mask of glass which protected his face. He inhaled the 
noxious fumes and fell dead by the side of his crucibles. 
This event gave Desgrais, captain of the police of Paris, a 
clue to the horrors which had so long baffled his pursuit. 

The correspondence of St. Croix was seized. His con- 


CALLING A RAVENOUS BIRD;^ ETC. 363 

nection with the Marchioness de Brinvilliers, and his rela- 
tions with Exili were discovered. Exili was thrown a 
second time into the Bastile. The Marchioness was ar- 
rested and put upon her trial before the Chamhre Ardente^ 
where, as recorded in the narrative of her confessor, Pirol, 
her ravishing beauty of feature, blue eyes, snow-white skin, 
and gentle demeanor won a strong sympathy from the 
fickle populace of Paris, in whose eyes her charms of per- 
son and manner pleaded hard to extenuate her unparalleled 
crimes. 

But no power of beauty or fascination of look could 
move the stern Le Regnie from his judgment. She was 
pronounced guilty of the death of her husband and sen- 
tenced first to be tortured, and then beheaded and her 
body burnt on the Place de Greve, a sentence which was 
carried out to the letter. The ashes of the fairest and 
most wicked dame of the Court of Louis XIV. were scat- 
tered to the four corners of the city which had been the 
scene of her unparalleled crimes. The arch poisoner Exili 
was also tried and condemned to be burnt. The tumbril that 
bore him to execution was stopped on its way by the fu- 
rious rabble and he was torn in pieces by them. 

For a short time the kingdom breathed freely in fancied 
security ; but soon the epidemic of sudden as well as linger- 
ing deaths from poison, broke out again on all sides. The 
fatal tree of the knowledge of evil, seemingly cut down 
with Exili and St. Croix, had sprouted afresh, like a Upas 
that could not be destroyed. 

The poisoners became more numerous than ever. Fol- 
lowing the track of St. Croix and La Brinvilliers they 
carried on the war against humanity without relaxation. 
Chief of these was a reported witch and fortune-teller 
named La Voisin, who had studied the infernal secret 
under Exili and borne a daughter to the false Italian. 

With La Voisin were associated two priests, Le Sage 
and Le Vigoureux, who lived with her, and assisted her in 
her necromantic exhibitions which were visited, believed in, 
and richly rewarded by some of the foremost people of the 
court. These necromantic exhibitions were in reality a 
cover to darker crimes. 

It was long the popular belief in France, that Cardinal 
Bonzy got from La Voisin the means of ridding himself ol 
sundry persons who stood in the way of his ecclesiastical 


THE CHIEN D'OE. 


364 

preferment or to whom he had to pay pensions in his 
quality of Archbishop of Narbonne. The Duchesse de 
Bouillon and the Countess of .Soissons, mother of the 
famous Prince Eugene, were also accused of trafficking 
with that terrible woman, and were banished from the 
kingdom in consequence, while a royal Duke, Frangois de 
Montmorency, was also suspected of dealings with La 
Voisin. 

The Chambre Ardente struck right and left. Desgrais, 
chief of the police, by a crafty ruse, penetrated’ into the se- 
cret circle of La Voisin, and she, with a crowd of associates, 
perished in the fires of the Place de Greve. She left an 
illstarred daughter, Marie Exili, to the blank charity of the 
streets of Paris, and the possession of many of the frightful 
secrets of her mother and of her terrible father. 

Marie Exili clung to Paris. She grew up beautiful and 
profligate, she coined her rare Italian charms, first into 
gold and velvet, then into silver and brocade, and at last 
into copper and rags. When her charms faded ’entirely, 
she began to practise the forbidden arts of her mother and 
father but without their boldness, or long impunity. 

She was soon suspected, but receiving timely warning 
of her danger, from a high patroness at Court, Marie fled 
to New France in the disguise of a paysanne^ one of a cargo 
of unmarried women sent out to the colony, on matrimonial 
venture, as the custom then was, to furnish wives for the 
colonists. Her sole possession was an antique cabinet 
with its contents, the only remnant saved from the fortune 
of her father Exili. 

Marie Exili landed in New France, cursing the old 
world which she had left behind, and bringing as bitter a 
hatred of the new, which received her without a shadow of 
suspicion, that under her modest peasant’s garb was 
concealed the daughter and inhere trix of the black arts 
of Antonio Exili and of the sorceress La Voisin. 

Marie Exili kept her secret well. She played the 
Ingenue to perfection. Her straight figure and black eyes 
having drawn a second glance from the Sieur Corriveau, a 
rich habitant of St. Valier, who was looking for a servant 
among the crowd of paysannes who had just arrived from 
France, he could not escape from the power of their fas- 
cination. 

He took Marie Exili home with him, and installed her 


CALLING A RAVENOUS BIRD;' ETC, 365 

in his household, where his wife soon died of some inex- 
plicable disease which baffled the knowledge of both the 
doctor and the curate, the two wisest men in the parish. 
The Sieur Corriveau ended his widowhood by marrying 
Marie Exili, and soon died himself, leaving his whole for- 
tune and one daughter, the image of her mother, to Marie. 

Marie Exili ever in dread of the perquisitions of Des- 
giais, kept ver}^ quiet in her secluded home on the St. 
Lawrence, guarding her secret with a life-long apprehen- 
sion and but occasionally and in the darkest w^ays prac- 
tising her deadly skill. She found some compensation and 
relief for her suppressed passions in the clinging sympathy 
of her daughter, Marie Josephte dit La Corriveau, who 
worshipped all that was evil in her mother and in spite of 
an occasional reluctance springing from some maternal 
instinct, drew from her every secret of her life. She made 
herself mistress of the whole formula of poisoning as taught 
by her grandfather, Exili, and of the arts of sorcery prac- 
tised by her wicked grandmother. La Voisin. 

As La Corriveau listened to the tale of the burning of 
her grandmother on the Place de Greve, her own soul 
seemed bathed in the flames which rose from the faggots 
and which to her perverted reason appeared as the fires of 
cruel injustice, calling for revenge upon the whole race of 
the oppressors of her family as she regarded the punishers 
of their crimes. 

With such a parentage and such dark secrets brooding 
in her bosom, Marie Josephte, or, as she was commonly 
called. La Corriveau, had nothing in common with the 
simple peasantry among whom she lived. 

Years passed over her, youth fled and La Corriveau 
still sat in her house, eating her heart out, silent and soli- 
tary. After the death of her mother, some wfflispers of 
hidden treasures known only to herself, a rumor which she 
had cunningly set afloat, excited the cupidity of Louis 
Dodier, a simple habita7it of St. Valier, and drew him into 
a marriage with her. 

It was a barren union. No child followed with God’s 
grace in its little hands to create a mother’s feelings and 
soften the callous heart of La Corriveau. She cursed her 
lot that it was so, and her dry bosom became an arid spot 
of desert, tenanted by satyrs and dragons, by every evil 
passion of a woman without conscience and void of love. 


366 


THE CHIEN HO R, 


But La Corriveau had inherited the sharp intellect and 
Italian dissimulation of Antonio Exili, she was astute 
enough to throw a veil of hypocrisy over the evil eye which 
shot like a glance of death from under her thick black 
eyebrows. 

Her craft was equal to her malice. An occasional deed 
of alms, done not for charity’s sake, but for ostentation ; an 
adroit deal of cards, or a horoscope cast to flatter a foolish 
girl; a word of sympathy, hollow as a water bubble but 
colored with iridescent prettiness, averted suspicion from 
the darker traits of her character. 

If she was hated, she was also feared by her neighbors, 
and although the sign of the cross was made upon the 
chair whereon she had sat in a neighbor’s house, her visits 
were not unwelcome, and in the Manor house, as in the 
cabin of the woodman. La Corriveau was received, consult- 
ed, rewarded, and oftener thanked than cursed by her 
witless dupes. 

There was something sublime in the Satanic pride with 
which she carried with her the terrible secrets of her race, 
which in her own mind made her the superior of every one 
around her, and whom she regarded as living only by her 
permission or forbearance. 

For human love other than as a degraded menial, to 
make men the slaves of her mercenary schemes. La Cor- 
riveau cared nothing. She never felt it, never inspired it. 
She looked down upon all her sex as the filth of creation, 
and like herself incapable of a chaste feeling or a pure 
thought. Every better instinct of her nature had gone out 
like the flame of a lamp whose oil is exhausted. Love of 
money remained as dregs, at the bottom of her heart. A 
deep grudge against mankind with a secret pleasure in the 
misfortunes of others, especially of her own sex, were her 
ruling passions. 

Her mother, Marie Exili, had died in her bed, warning 
her daughter not to dabble in the forbidden arts which she 
had taught her, but to cling to her husband and live an 
honest life as the only means of dying a more hopeful 
death than her ancestors. 

La Corriveau heard much, but heeded little. The blood 
of Antonio Exili and of La Voisin beat too vigorously in 
her veins to be tamed down by the feeble whispers of a 
dying woman who had been weak enough to give way at 


CALLING A RAVENOUS BIRD;* ETC. 367 


last. The death of her mother left La Corriveau free to 
follow her own will. The Italian subtlety of her race made 
her secret and cautious. She had few personal affronts to 
avenge, and few temptations in the simple community 
where she lived to practise more than the ordinary arts of 
a rural fortune-teller, keeping in impenetrable shadow the 
darker side of her character as a born sorceress and 
poisoner. 

Such was the woman whom Angelique des Meloises 
summoned to her aid in what she thought was the crisis of 
her life. A crisis which she had at length persuaded her- 
self, justified the only means left to get rid of her rival for 
the hand of the Intendant. 

Her conscience, which ought to have protected her, 
had shivered under the blows of her passion like a shield 
of glass ; but fragments of it still wounded her. She was 
not without some natural compunctions ; for though* habitu- 
ated to think of sin, she had not yet been touched by 
crime, and she strove earnestly to blind herself to the enor- 
mity of what she had resolved — and had recourse to some 
sad casuistry to persuade herself that she would be less 
guilty of the crime of murder if she did it by the hand of 
another. Moreover, she called on God to witness that she 
did not mean to be a persistent sinner, far from it. She 
would commit but one crime, only one ! just one simple 
breach of human and divine law. Take the life of a rival, 
but that done, her end attained, she would live the life of 
a saint ever after, free from all further temptation ! for she 
would be beatified by a marriage with the Intendant of 
New France ; take precedence of all the ladies of the 
colony ; and at last be translated to that heaven of hope 
and delight, the Court of Versailles, leaving far behind her 
Beaumanoir and all its dark memories — what more would 
she have to desire in this world ? 

The juggling fiend plays with us ever thus ! When we 
palter with conscience, a single fault seems not much. One 
step beyond the allowable mark does not look to be far. 
It will be quite a merit to stop there, and go no farther ! 
Providence viiist be on oiir side and reward our abstinence 
from further wickedness ! 

Fanchon Dodier, in obedience to the order of her mis- 
tress, started early in the day, to bear the message intrusted 
to her for La Corriveau. She did not cross the river and 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


368 

take the king^s highway, the rough though well travelled 
road on the south shore which led to St. Valier. Ange- 
lique was crafty enough amid her impulsiveness to see 
that it were better for Fanchon to go down by water and 
return by land. It lessened observation, and might be im- 
portant one day to baffle inquiry. La Corriveau would 
serve her for money, but for money also she might betray 
her. Angelique resolved to secure her silence by making 
her the perpetrator of whatever scheme of wickedness she 
might devise against the unsuspecting Lady of Beaumanoir. 
As for Fanchon, she need know nothing more than Ange- 
lique told her as to the object of her mission to her terrible 
aunt. 

In pursuance of this design, Angfflique had already sent 
for a couple of Indian canoemen to embark Fanchon at 
the quay of the Friponne and convey her to St. Valier. 

Half-civilized and wholly demoralized red men were 
always to be found on the beach of Stadacona as they still 
called the Batture of the St. Charles, lounging about in 
blankets, smoking, playing dice, or drinking pints or quarts 
— as fortune favored them or a passenger wanted convey- 
ance in their bark canoes, which they managed with a dex- 
terity unsurpassed by any boatmen that ever put oar or 
paddle in water, salt or fresh. 

These rough fellows were safe and trusty in their pro- 
fession. Fanchon knew them slightly, and felt no fear 
whatever in seating herself upon the bear skin which car- 
peted the bottom of their canoe. 

They pushed off at once from the shore, with scarcely 
a word of^ reply to her voluble directions and gesticula- 
tions as they went speeding their canoe down the stream. 
The turning tide bore them lightly on its bosom, and they 
chanted a wild, monotonous refrain as their paddles flashed 
and dipped alternately in stream and sunshine : 

“Ah ! ah ! Tenaouich tenaga ! 

Tenaouich tenaga, ouich ka ! ” 

^‘They are singing about me, no doubt,^’ said Fanchon 
to herself. “ I do • not care what people say, they can- 
not be Christians who speak such a heathenish jargon as 
that. It is enough to sink the canoe ; but I will repeat my 
pater nosters and my Ave Marias, seeing they will not con- 
verse with me, and I will pray good St. Anne to give me 


“ CALLING A RA VENOUS BIRD,'^ ETC. 369 


a safe passage to St. Valier.” In which pious occupation 
as the boatmen continued their savage song without paying 
her any attention, Fanchon, with many interruptions of 
worldly thoughts, spent the rest of the time she was in the 
Indian canoe. 

Down past the green hills of the south shore the boat- 
men steadily plied their paddles, and kept singing their 
wild Indian chant. The wooded slopes of Orleans basked 
in sunshine as they overlooked the broad channel, through 
which the canoe sped, and long before meridian the little 
bark was turned in to shore and pulled up on the beach of 
St. Valier. 

Fanchon leaped out without assistance, wetting a foot 
in so doing, which somewhat discomposed the good-humor 
she had shown during the voyage. Her Indian boatmen 
offered her no help, considering that women were made to 
serve men and help themselves, and not to be waited upon 
by them. 

The gallantry of Frenchmen to the sex was a thing un- 
intelligible and absurd in the eyes of the red men, who, 
whatever shreds of European ideas hung loosely about 
them, never changed their original opinions about women ; 
and hence were incapable of real civilization. 

“ Not that I wanted to touch one of their savage hands,’^ 
muttered Fanchon, “but they might have offered one as- 
sistance ! Look there,” continued she, pulling aside her 
skirt and showing a very trim foot wet up to the ankle, “ they 
ought to know the difference between their red squaws and 
white girls of the city. If they are not worth politeness, 
we are. But Indians are only fit to kill Christians or be 
killed by them ; and you migiit as well curtesy to a bear in 
the briars, as to an Indian anywhere.” 

The boatmen looked at her foot with supreme indiffer- 
ence, and taking out their pipes seated themselves on the 
edge of their canoe and began to smoke. 

“ You may return to the city,” said she, addressing 
them sharply, “ I pray to the bon Dieu to strike you white 
— it is vain to look for manners from an Indian ! I shall 
remain in St. Valier and not return with you.” 

“ Marry me, be my squaw, Ania ? ” replied one of the - 
boatmen with a grim smile, “ the bon Dieu will strike our 
papooses white and teach them manners like pale-faces.” 

“ Ugh ! not for all the king’s money. What ! marry a 
24 


370 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


red Indian and carry his pack like Fifine Perotte ? I would 
die first ! You are bold indeed, Paul La Crosse, to name 
such a thing to me. Go back to the city ! I would not 
trust myself again in your canoe. It required courage to 
do so at all, but mademoiselle selected you for my boatmen, 
not I. I wonder she did so, when the brothers Belleau, 
and the prettiest fellows in town, were idle on the batture.^’ 

‘‘ Ania is niece to the old medicine woman in the stone 
wigwam at St. Valier ; going to see her, eh ? asked the 
other boatman with a slight display of curiosity. 

‘‘Yes, I am going to visit my aunt Dodier, why should 
I not } She has crocks of gold buried in the house, I can 
tell you that, Pierre Ceinture ! ’’ 

“ Going to get some from La Corriveau, eh ? crocks of 
gold, eh ? ’’ said Paul La Crosse. 

“ La Corriveau has medicines too ! get some, eh ? ’’ asked 
Pierre Ceinture. 

“ I am going neither for gold nor medicines, but to see 
my aunt, if it concerns you to know, Pierre Ceinture ! 
which it does not ! 

“ Mademoiselle des Meloises pay her to go, eh ? not 
going back ever, eh ? asked the other Indian. 

“ Mind your own affairs, Paul La Crosse, and I will 
mind mine ! Mademoiselle des Meloises paid you to bring 
me to St. Valier, not to ask me impertinences. That is 
enough for you ! Here is your fare, now you can return to 
the Sault au Matelot and drink yourselves blind with the 
money ! ’’ 

“ Very good that ! ” replied the Indian. “ I like to 
drink myself blind, will do it to-night ! Like to see me, 
eh ? Better that, than go see* La Corriveau ! The habi- 
tans say she talks with the Devil, and makes the sickness 
settle like a fog upon the wigwams of the red men. They 
say she can make pale faces die, by looking at them ! But 
Indians are too hard to kill with a look ! Firewater and 
gun and tomahawk, and fever in the wigwams, only make 
the Indians die.’’ 

“Good that something can make you die, for your 
ill manners ! look at my stocking ! ” replied Fanchon with 
warmth. “ If I tell La Corriveau what you say of her, 
there will be trouble in your wigwam, Pierre Ceinture ! ” 

“ Do not do that, Ania ! ” replied the Indian crossing 
himself earnestly, “ do not tell La Corriveau or she will 


CALLING A LA VENOUS BIRD;' ETC. 


371 


make an image of wax and call it Pierre Ceinture, and she 
will melt it away before a slow fire, and as it melts my 
flesh and bones will melt away too ! Do not tell her, Fan- 
chon Dodier ! ’’ The Indian had picked up this piece of 
superstition from the white habitans., and like them thor- 
oughly believed in the supernatural powers of La Corriveau. 

“ Well, leave me ! get back to the city, and tell Made- 
moiselle, I arrived safe at St. Valier,’^ replied Fanchon, 
turning to leave them. 

The Indians were somewhat taken down by the airs of 
Fanchon, and they stood in awe of the far-reaching power 
of her aunt, from the power of whose witchcraft they firmly 
believed no hiding-place, even in the deepest woods, could 
protect them. Merely nodding a farewell to Fanchon, the 
Indians silently pushed their canoe into the stream, and 
embarking returned to the city by the way they came. 

A fine breezy upland lay before Fanchon Dodier. Cul- 
tivated fields of corn and meadows ran down to the shore. 
A row of white cottages forming a loosely connected street 
clustered into something like a village at the point where 
the Parish church stood, at the intersection of two or 
three roads, one of which, a narrow green track, but little 
worn by the carts of the habitans^ led to the stone house 
of La Corriveau, the chimney of which was just visible as 
you lost sight of the village spire. The road dipped down 
on the other side of the hill, and, in the far distance be- 
yond, rose narrowed to a thread upon another hill, and 
ran into the depths of the forest which formed the back- 
ground of the landscape. 

In a deep hollow, out of sight of the village church, 
almost out of hearing of its little bell, stood the house of 
La Corriveau, a square heavy structure of stone, inconve- 
nient and gloomy, with narrow windows and an uninviting 
door. The pine forest touched it on one side, a brawling 
stream twisted itself like a live snake half round it on the 
other. A plot of green grass ill kept and deformed, with 
noxious weeds, dock, fennel, thistle and foul stramonium, 
was surrounded by a rough wall of loose stones forming 
the lawn, such as it was, where, under a tree seated in an 
armchair, was a solitary woman, whom Fanchon recognized 
as her aunt, Marie Josephte Dodier, surnamed La Cor- 
riveau. 

La Corriveau in feature and person took after hei 


372 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


grantlsire Exili. She was tall and straight, of a swarthy 
complexion, black haired and intensely black eyed. She was 
not uncomely of feature, nay had been handsome, nor was 
her look at first sight forbidding, especially if she did 
not turn upon you those small basilisk eyes of hers, full of 
fire and glare as the eyes of a rattlesnake. But truly those 
thin cruel lips of hers never smiled spontaneously or affect- 
ed to smile upon you, unless she had an object to gain, 
by assuming a disguise as foreign to her as light to an 
angel of darkness. 

La Corriveau was dressed in a robe of soft brown stuff, 
shaped with a degree of taste and style beyond the garb of 
her class. Neatness in dress was the one virtue she had 
inherited from her mother. Her feet were small and well 
shod, like a lady’s, as the envious neighbors used to say. 
She never in her life would wear the sabots of the peasant 
women, nor go barefoot, as many of them did about the 
house. La Corriveau was vain of her feet which would 
have made her fortune, as she thought with bitterness, any 
where but in St. Valier. 

She sat musing in her chair, not noticing the presence 
of her niece, who stood for a moment looking and hesi- 
tating before accosting her. Her countenance bore when 
she was alone, an expression of malignity which made Fan- 
chon shudder. A quick, unconscious twitching of the fingers 
accompanied her thoughts, as if this weird woman was 
playing a game of mora with the evil genius that waited on 
her. Her grandsire Exili had the same nervous twitch- 
ing of his fingers, and the vulgar accused him of playing 
at mora with the Devil, who ever accompanied him, they 
believed. 

The lips of La Corriveau moved in unison with her 
thoughts. She was giving expression to her habitual con- 
tempt for her sex as she crooned over in a sufficiently 
audible voice to reach the ear of Fanchon, a hateful song 
of Jean Le Meung — on women : — 

“ Toutes vous etes, serez ou futes, 

De fait ou de volonte putes 1 

“ It is not nice to say that, aunt Marie ! ” exclaimed 
Fanchon, coming forward and embracing La Corriveau, 
who gave a start on seeing her niece so unexpectedly be* 
fore her. It is not nice, and it is not true I ” 


LA CORRIVEAU. 


373 


“ But it is true ! Fanchon Dodier ! if it be not nice. 
There is nothing nice to be said of our sex, except by 
foolish men ! Women know one another better ! But/’ 
continued she, scrutinizing her niece with her keen black 
eyes, which seemed to pierce her through and through, 
“ what ill wind or Satan’s errand has brought you to St. 
Valier to-day, Fanchon ? ” 

‘‘No ill wind, nor ill errand either, I hope, aunt. I 
come by command of my mistress to ask you to go to the 
city. She is biting her nails oif with impatience to see you 
on some business.” 

“ And who is your mistress, who dares to ask La Corri- 
veau to go to the city at her bidding ? ” 

“ Do not be angry, aunt,” replied Fanchon, soothingly. 
It was I counselled her to send for you, and I offered to 
fetch you. My mistress is a high lady, who expects to be 
still higher : Mademoiselle des Meloises ! ” 

“ Mademoiselle Angelique des Meloises, one hears 
enough of her ! a high lady indeed ! who will be low enough 
at last ! A minx as vain as she is pretty, who would 
marry all the men in New France, and kill all the women 
if she could have her way ! what in the name of the Sabbat, 
does she want with I.a Corriveau ” 

“ She did not call you names, aunt, and please do not 
say such things of her, for you will frighten me away be- 
fore I tell my errand. Mademoiselle Angelique sent this 
piece of gold as earnest money to prove that she wants 
your counsel and advice in an important matter.” 

Fanchon untied the corner of her handkerchief, and 
took from it a broad shining Louis d’or. She placed it in 
the hand of La Corriveau, whose long fingers clutched it 
like the talons of a harpy. Of all the evil passions of this 
woman, the greed for money was the most ravenous. 

“ It is long since I got a piece of gojd like that to cross 
my hand with, Fanchon ! ” said she, looking at it admiringly 
and spitting on it for good luck. 

“ There are plenty more where it came from, aunt,” 
replied Fanchon. “ Mademoiselle could fill your apron 
with gold every day of the week if she would : she is to 
marry the Intendant ! ” 

“ Marry the Intendant ! ah, indeed ! that is why she 
sends for me so urgently ! I see ! Marry the Intendant ! 


374 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


She will bestow a pot of gold on La Corriveau to accom 
plish that match ! ’’ 

“ Maybe she would, Aunt ; I would, myself. But it is 
not that she wishes to consult you about just now. She 
lost her jewels at the ball, and wants your help to find 
them.’’ 

‘‘ Lost her jewels, eh ? Did she say you were to tell 
me that she had lost her jewels, Fanchon ? 

“ Yes, Aunt, that is what she wants to consult you 
about,” replied Fanchon, with simplicity. But the keen 
perception of La Corriveau saw that a second purpose lay 
behind it. 

A likely tale ! ” muttered she, that so rich a lady 
would send for La Corriveau from St. Valier to find a few 
jewels ! But it will do. I will go with you to the city. I 
cannot refuse an invitation like that. Gold fetches any 
woman, Fanchon. It fetches me always. It will fetch 
you too, some day, if you are lucky enough to give it the 
chance.” 

‘‘ I wish it would fetch me now. Aunt ; but poor girls 
who live by service and wages have small chance to be 
sent for in that way ! We are glad to get the empty hand 
without the money. Men are so scarce with this cruel 
war, that they might easily have a wife to each finger, were 
it allowed by the law. I heard Dame Tremblay say — and 
I thought her very right — the Church does not half con- 
sider our condition and necessities.” 

“ Dame Tremblay ! the charming Josephine of Lake Beau- 
port. She who would have been a witch, and could not ! 
Satan would not have her ! ” exclaimed La Corriveau, 
scornfully. Is she still housekeeper and bedmaker at 
Beaumanoir 1 ” 

Fanchon was honest enough to feel rather indignant 
at this speech. Don’t speak so of her, Aunt ; she is not 
bad. Although I ran away from her, and took service with 
Mademoiselle des Meloises, I will not speak ill of her.” 

‘‘ Why did you run away from Beaumanoir ? ” asked La 
Corriveau. 

Fanchon reflected a moment upon the mystery of the 
Lady of Beaumanoir, and something checked her tongue ; 
as if it were not safe to tell all she knew to her aunt, who 
would, moreover, be sure to find out from Angelique her' 
self as much as her mistress wished her to know. 


LA CORRIVEAU. 


375 


did not like Dame Tremblay, *Aunt/’ replied she ; 
“ I preferred to live with Mademoiselle Angelique. She is 
a lady, a beauty, who dresses to surpass any picture in the 
book of Modes from Paris, which I often looked at on her 
dressing-table. She allowed me to imitate them, or wear 
her cast-off dresses, which were better than any other ladies’ 
new ones. I have one of them on. Look, Aunt ! ” Fan- 
chon spread out very complacently the skirt of a pretty 
blue robe she w^ore. 

La Corriveau nodded her head in a sort of silent ap- 
proval, and remarked : ‘‘ She is free-handed enough ! She 
gives what costs her nothing, and takes all she can get, and 
is, after all, a trollope, like the rest of us, Fanchon, who 
would be very good if there were neither men nor money 
nor fine clothes in the world, to tempt poor silly women.” 

‘‘ You do say such nasty things. Aunt ! ” exclaimed Fan- 
chon, flashing with indignation. ‘T will hear no more ! I 
am going into the house to see dear old Uncle Dodier, 
* who has been looking through the window at me for ten 
minutes past, and dared not come out to speak to me. You 
are too hard on poor old Uncle Dodier. Aunt,” said Fan- 
chon, boldly. ‘‘ If you cannot be kind to him, why did you 
marry him ? ” 

“ Why, I wanted a husband, and he wanted my money, 
that was all ; and I got my bargain, and his too, Fanchon ! ” 
and the woman laughed savagely. 

“ I thought people married to be happy. Aunt,” replied 
the girl, persistently. 

Happy ! such folly. Satan yokes people together to 
bring more sinners into the world, and supply fresh fuel 
for his fires.” 

“ My mistress thinks there is no happiness like a good 
match,” remarked Fanchon ; “ and I think so too. Aunt. 
1 shall never wait the second time of asking, I assure you, 
Aunt.” 

“You are a fool, Fanchon,” said La Corriveau ; but 
your mistress deserves to wear the ring of Cleopatra, and 
to become the mother of witches and harlots for all time. 
Why did she really send for me ? ” 

The girl crossed herself, and exclaimed : “ God forbid 1 
Aunt j my mistress is not like that ! ” 

La Corriveau spat at the mention of the sacred name. 
“But it is in her, Fanchon. It is in all of us ! If she is 


THK CHIEN D' OR. 


376 

not so already, she will be. But go into the house, and see 
your foolish uncle, while I go prepare for my visit. We will 
set out at once, Fanchon — for business like that of Ange- 
lique des Meloises cannot wait.’’ 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

WEIRD SISTERS. 

Fanchon walked into the house to see her uncle Dodier. 
When she was gone the countenance of La Corriveau put 
on a dark and terrible expression. Her black eyes looked 
downwards, seeming to penetrate the very earth, and to 
reflect in their glittering orbits the fires of the under world. 

She stood for a few moments, buried in deep thought, 
with her arms tightly folded across her breast. Her fin- 
gers moved nervously, as they kept time with the quick 
motions of her foot, which beat the floor. 

“ It is for death, and no lost jewels, that girl sends for 
me !” muttered La Corriveau, through her teeth, which 
flashed white and cruel between her thin lips. She has a 
rival in her love for the Intendant, and she will lovingly, 
by my help, feed her with the manna of St. Nicholas ! 
Angelique des Meloises has boldness, craft and falseness 
for twenty women, and can keep secrets like a nun. She 
is rich and ambitious, and would poison half the world, 
rather than miss the thing she sets her mind on. She is a 
girl after my own heart, and worth the risk I run with her. 
Her riches would be endless, should she succeed in her 
designs ; and with her in my power, nothing she has would 
henceforth be her own — but mine ! mine ! Besides,” ad- 
ded La Corriveau, her thoughts flashing back to the fate 
which had overtaken her progenitors — Exili and La Voi- 
sin — ‘‘ I may need help myself, some day, to plead with the 
Intendant on my own account ; who knows ? ” 

A strange thrill ran through the veins of La Corriveau, 
but she instantly threw it off. I know what she wants,” 
added she. I will take it with me. I am safe in trusting 
her with the secret of Beatrice Spara. That girl is worthy 
of it as Brinvilliers herself.” 


WEIRD SISTERS. 


zn 


La Corriveau entered her own apartment. She locked 
the door behind her, drew a bunch of keys from her bosom, 
and turned towards a cabinet of singular shape and Italian 
workmanship, which stood in a corner of the apartment. 
It was an antique piece of furniture, made of some dark 
oriental wood, carved over with fantastic figures from 
Etruscan designs by the cunning hand of an old Italian 
workman, who knew well how to make secret drawers and 
invisible concealments for things dangerous and forbidden. 

It had once belonged to Antonio Exili, who had caused 
it to be made, ostensibly for the safe keeping of his cabal- 
istic formulas and alchemic preparations, when searching 
for the Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life, really, 
for the concealment of the subtle drugs out of which his 
alembics distilled the aqua tofafia.^ and his crucibles pre- 
pared the poudre de successio?i. 

In the most secret place of all were deposited, ready 
for use, a few vials of the crystal liquid, every single drop 
of which contained the life of a man, and which, adminis- 
tered in due proportion of time and measure, killed and 
left no sign, numbering its victim’s days, hours and minutes, 
exactly according to the will and malignity of his destroyer. 

La Corriveau took out the vials, and placed them care- 
fully in a casket of ebony not larger than a woman’s hand. 
In it was a number of small flaskets, each filled with pills 
like grains of mustard seed, the essence and quintessence 
of various poisons, that put on the appearance of natural 
diseases, and which, mixed in due proportion with the 
Aqua T'ofa7ia., covered the foulest murders with the lawful 
ensigns of the angel of death. 

In that box of ebony was the sublimated dust of deadly 
night-shade, which kindles the red fires of fever and rots 
the roots of the tongue. There was the fetid powder of 
Stramonium, that grips the lungs like an asthma ; and 
Quinia, that shakes its victims like the cold hand of the 
miasma of the Pontine Marshes. The essence of poppies, 
ten times sublimated, a few grains of which bring on the 
stupor of apoplexy ; and the sardonic plant, that kills its 
victim with the frightful laughter of madness on his 
countenance. 

The knowledge of these and many more cursed herbs, 
once known to Medea in the Colchian land, and trans- 
planted to Greece and Rome, with the enchantments of 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


37S 

their use, had been handed, by a long succession of sor- 
cerers and poisoners, down to Exili and Beatrice Spara, 
until they came into the possession of La Corriveau, the 
legitimate inheritrix of this lore of hell. 

But Providence, while it does not prevent the crimes 
which determined wickedness resolves to commit, never 
ceases striving against them, educing good out of evil, and 
seeking to ameliorate man’s wretched estate. It lights lire 
with water. It combats evil with good and error with 
truth. But it also permits men to light fire with fire, and 
out of the very armor of Hell brings forth weapons to 
combat the prevailing wickedness of the time. 

The researches of the alchemists and poisoners had dis- 
closed to them many important secrets in chemistry which, 
in the hands of wise and good men, became of prime 
importance in the cure of diseases, after they had been 
long noted for their baneful effects. 

The study of the science of killing, led by a reverse pro- 
cess to that of the science of healing, and a whole school 
of medicine founds its practice, upon the principle that simi- 
lia shnilibus curantiir^ and wise physicians now use those 
terrible drugs, not to take life as the poisoners did, but as 
medicamenta, to fight and conquer the malignant diseases 
which these deadly substances, administered as poisons 
simulate and appear to occasion. 

Before closing the cabinet. La Corriveau opened one 
more secret drawer, and took out, with a hesitating hand, 
as if uncertain whether to do so or no, a glittering stiletto, 
sharp and cruel to see. She felt the point of it mechanic- 
ally with her thumb ; and, as if fascinated by the touch, 
placed it under her robe. I may have need of it,” mut- 
tered she, ‘‘ either to save myself or to make sure of my 
work on another. Beatrice Spara was the daughter of a 
Sicilian Bravo, and she liked this poignard better than 
even the poisoned chalice.” 

La Corriveau rose up now, well satisfied with her fore- 
sight and preparation. She placed the ebony casket care- 
fully in her bosom, cherishing it like an only child, as she 
walked out of the room with her quiet, tiger-like tread. 
Her look into the future was pleasant to her at this mo- 
ment. There was the prospect of an ample reward for her 
trouble and risk, and the anticipated pleasure of practising 
her skill upon one whose position she regarded as similar 


WEIRD SISTERS. 


379 


to that of the great dames of the Court, whom Exili and 
La Voisin had poisoned during the high Carnival' of 
Death, in the days of Louis Quatorze. 

She was now ready, and waited impatiently to depart. 

The good man Dodier brought the caleche to the door. 
It was a substantial two-wheeled vehicle, with a curious 
arrangement of springs, made out of the elastic wood of 
the hickory. The horse, a stout Norman pony, well har- 
nessed, sleek and glossy, was lightly held by the hand of 
the good man, who patted it kindly as an old friend ; and 
the pony, in some sort after an equine fashion, returned 
the affection of its master. 

La Corriveau, with an agility hardly to be expected 
from her years, seated herself beside Fanchon in the 
caleche, and giving her willing horse a sharp cut with the 
lash for spite, not for need— good man Dodier said — only 
to anger him — they set off at a rapid pace, and were soon 
out of sight at the turn of the dark pine woods, on their way 
to the city of Quebec. 

Anglieque des Meloises had remained all day in her 
house, counting the hours as they flew by, laden with the 
fate of her unsuspecting rival at Beaumanoir. 

Night had now closed in, the lamps were lit ; the fire again 
burned red upon the hearth. Her door was inexorably shut 
against all visitors. Lizette had been sent away until the 
morrow ; Angelique sat alone and expectant of the arrival 
of La Corriveau. 

The gay dress in which she had outshone all her sex at 
the ball, on the previous night, lay still in a heap upon 
the floor, where last night she had thrown it aside, like the 
robe of innocence which once invested her. Her face was 
beautiful, but cruel, and in its expression terrible as 
Medea’s brooding over her vengeance sworn against 
Creusa, for her sin with Jason. She sat in a careless des- 
habille^ with one white arm partly bare. Her long golden 
locks flowed loosely down her back and touched the floor, 
as she sat on her chair and watched and waited for the 
coming footsteps of La Corriveau. Her lips were com- 
pressed with a terrible resolution ; her eyes glanced red 
as they alternately reflected the glow of the fire within 
them and of the fire without. Her hands were clasped 
nervously together, with a grip like iron, and lay in her 
lap, while her dainty foot marked the rhythm of the tragi- 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


380 

cal thoughts that swept like a song of doom through her 
soul. 

The few compunctious feelings which struggled up 
into her mind were instantly overborne by the passionate - 
reflection that the lady of Beaumanoir must die ! I 
must or she must — one or other ! We cannot both live 
and marry this man exclamed she, passionately. Has 
it come to this, which of us shall be the wife, which the 
mistress ? By God, I would kill him too, if I thought he 
hesitated in his choice, but he shall soon have no choice 
but one ! Her death be on her own head and on Bigot’s — 
not on mine I ” • 

And the wretched girl strove to throw the guilt of the 
sin she premeditated upon her victim, upon the Intendant, 
upon fate, and with a last subterfuge to hide the enormity 
of it from her own eyes, upon La Corriveau, whom she 
would lead on to suggest the crime and commit it ! a* course 
which Angelique tried to believe would be more venial 
than if it were suggested by herself ! less heinous in her 
own eyes, and less wicked in the sight of God. 

‘‘Why did that mysterious woman go to Beaumanoir and 
place herself in the path of Angelique des Meloises ? ” ex- 
claimed she, angrily. “ Why did Bigot reject my earnest 
prayer, for it was earnest for a Lettre de Cachet to send her 
unharmed away out of New France?” 

Then Angelique sat and listened without moving for 
a long time. The clock ticked loud and warningly. There 
was a sighing of the wind about the windows as if it sought 
admittance to reason and remonstrate with her. A cricket 
sang his monotonous song on the hearth. In the wainscot 
of the room a death watch ticked its doleful omen. The 
dog in the court yard howled plaintively as the hour of 
midnight sounded upon the Convent bell, close by. The 
bell had scarcely ceased ere she was startled by a slight 
creaking like the opening of a door, followed by a whisper- 
ing and the rustle of a woman’s garments as of one ap- 
proaching with cautious steps up the stair. A thrill of 
expectation not unmingled with fear, shot through the 
breast of Angelique. She sprang up, exclaiming to her- 
self, “ she is come, and all the demons that wait on mur- 
der come with her into my chamber ! ” A knock followed 
on the door. Angelique, very agitated, in spite of her fierce 
efforts to appear calm, bade them come in. 


WEIRD SISTERS. 


381 

Fanchon opened the door, and with a courtesy to her 
mistress, ushered in La Corriveau, who walked straight into 
the room, and stood face to face with Angelique. 

The eyes of the two women instantly met in a search- 
ing glance, that took in the whole look, bearing, dress and 
almost the very thoughts of each other. In that one 
glance each knew and understood the other and could 
trust each other in evil if not in good. 

And there was trust between them. The evil spirits 
that possessed each of their hearts, shook hands together 
and a silent league was sworn to in their souls, before a word 
was spoken. 

And yet how unlike to human eye were these two 
women ! How like in God’s eye that sees the heart and 
reads the spirit, of what manner it is ! Angelique, radiant 
in the bloom of youth and beauty, her golden hair floating 
about her like a cloud of glory round a daughter of the 
sun ! with her womanly perfections which made the world 
seem brighter for such a revelation of completeness in 
every external charm. 

La Corriveau, stern, dark, angular, her fine cut features 
crossed with thin lines of cruelty and cunning, no mercy 
in her eyes, still less on her lips, and none at all in her 
heart, cold to every humane feeling and warming only to 
wickedness and avarice, still, these women recognized each 
other as kindred spirits, crafty and void of conscience in 
the accomplishment of their ends. 

Had fate exchanged the outward circumstances of 
their lives, each might have been the other easily and 
naturally. The proud beauty had nothing in her heart 
better than La Corriveau, and the witch of St. Valier if 
born in luxury and endowed with beauty and wealth, 
would have rivalled Angelique in seductiveness and hardly 
fallen below her in ambition and power. 

La Corriveau saluted Angelique, who made a sign to 
Fanchon to retire. The girl obeyed somewhat reluctantly. 
She had hoped to be present at the interview between her 
aunt and her mistress, for her curiosity was greatly excited, 
and she now suspected there was more in this visit than 
she had been told. 

Angelique invited La Corriveau to remove her cloak 
and broad hat. Seating her in her own luxurious chair, she 
sat down beside her and began the conversation with the 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


382 

usual platitudes and commonplaces of the time, dwelling 
longer upon them than need was, as if she hesitated or 
feared to bring up the real subject of this midnight con- 
ference. 

“ My lady is fair to look . on. All women will admit 
that, all men swear to it!” said La Corriveau in a harsh 
voice, that grated ominously like the door of hell which she 
was opening, with this commencement of her business. 

Angelique replied only with a smile. A compliment 
from La Corriveau even was not wasted upon her, but 
just now she was on the brink of an abyss of explanation, 
looking down into the dark pit, resolved yet hesitating to 
make the plunge. 

‘‘No witch or witchery but your own charms is needed. 
Mademoiselle 1 ” continued La Corriveau, falling into the 
tone of flattery she often used towards her dupes, “ to make 
what fortune you will in this world ; what pearl ever fished 
out of the sea could add a grace to this wondrous hair of 
yours ? Permit me to touch it. Mademoiselle ? ” 

La Corriveau took hold of a thick tress and held it up 
to the light of the lamp, where it shone like gold. Ange- 
lique shrank back as from the touch of fire. She withdrew 
her hair with a jerk from the hand of La Corriveau. A 
shudder passed through her from head to foot. It was the 
last parting effort of her good genius to save her. 

“ Do not touch it !” said she quickly, “ I have set my 
life and soul on a desperate venture, but my hair I have 
devoted it to our Lady of St. Foye, it is hers, not mine ! Do 
not touch it, dame Dodier.” 

Angelique was thinking of a vow she had once made 
before the shrine of the little church of Lorette. “ My 
hair is the one thing belonging to me that I will keep 
pure,” continued she, “ so do not be angry with me,” she 
added apologetically. 

“ I am not angry,” replied La Corriveau, with a sneer. 
“ I am used to strange humors in people who ask my aid. 
They always fall out with themselves before they fall in 
with La Corriveau.” 

“ Do you know why I have sent for you at this hour, 
good dame Dodier ?” asked Angelique, abruptly. 

“ Call me La Corriveau ; I am not good dame Dodier. 
mine is an ill name and I like it best, and so should you. 
Mademoiselle, for the business you sent me for is not 


WEIRD SISTERS. 


383 

what people who say their prayers call good. It was to find 
your lost jewels that Fanchon Dodier summoned me to 
your abode, was it not ? ” La Corriveau uttered this with a 
suppressed smile of incredulity. 

‘‘ Ah 1 I bade Fanchon tell you that, in order to deceive 
her, not you ! But you know better. La Corriveau ! It was 
not for the sake of paltry jewels I desired you to come to 
the city to see me at this hour of midnight/’ 

“ I conjectured as much !” replied La Corriveau, with a 
sardonic smile which showed her small teeth white, even 
and cruel as those of a wildcat. “ The jewel you have 
lost is the heart of your lover, and you thought La 
Corriveau had a charm to win it back, was not that it. 
Mademoiselle ? ” 

Angelique sat upright, gazing boldly in the eyes of her 
visitor. Yes, it was that, and more than that I summon- 
ed you for; can you not guess ? you are wise. La Corriveau, 
you know a woman’s desire better than she dare avow it tc/ 
herself!” 

‘‘Ah!” replied La Corriveau, returning her scrutiny 
with the eyes of a basilisk;’ a green light flashed out of 
their dark depths, “ you have a lover and you have a rival 
too ! A woman more potent than yourself, in spite of your 
beauty and your fascinations, has caught the eye ' and en- 
tangled the affections of the man you love, and you ask 
my counsel how to win him back and how to triumph over 
your rival. Is it not for that you have summoned La 
Corriveau ? ” 

“ Yes, it is that and still .more than that ! ” replied 
Angelique, clenching her hands hard together and gazing 
earnestly at the fire with a look of meiciless triumph at 
what she saw there reflected from her own thoughts, 
distinctly as if she looked at her own face in a mirror. 

“ It is all that and still more than that, cannot you 
guess yet why I have summoned you here ? ” continued 
Angelique, rising and laying her left hand firmly upon the 
shoulder of La Corriveau as she bent her head and whis- 
pered with terrible distinctness in her ear : 

La Corriveau heard her whisper, and looked up eagerly, 
“ Yes, I know now. Mademoiselle, you would kill youi 
rival ! There is death in your eye, in your voice, in youi 
heart, but not in your hand ! You would kill the woman 
who robs you of your lover, and you have sent for La 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


384 

Corriveau to help you in the good work ! It is a good 
work in the eyes of a woman to kill her rival ! but why 
should I do that to please you ? What do I care for your 
lover, Angelique des Meloises ? 

Angelique was startled to hear from the lips of 
another, words which gave free expression to her own 
secret thoughts. A denial was on her lips, but the lie 
remained unspoken. She trembled before La Corriveau, 
but her resolution was unchanged. 

‘‘ It was not only to please me,- but to profit yourself 
that I sent for you ! ’’ Angelique replied eagerly, like one 
trying to outstrip her conscience and prevent it from over- 
taking her sin. “ Hark you ! you love gold. La Corriveau ! 
I will give you all you crave in return for your help ! 
— for help me you shall ! you will never repent of it if you 
do j you will never cease to regret it if you do not ! I will 
make you rich. La Corriveau ! or else, by God! do you 
hear ? I swear it ! I will have you burnt for a witch and 
your ashes strewn all over St. Valier !” 

La Corriveau spat contemptuously upon the floor at the 
holy name. You are a foot, Angelique des Meloises, to 
speak thus to me ! Do you know who and what I am ? 
you are a poor butterfly to flutter your gay wings against 
La Corriveau I but still I like your spirit ! women like 
you are rare. The blood of Exili could not have spoken 
bolder than you do ; you want the life of a woman who has 
kindled the hell fire of jealousy in your heart, and you 
want me to tell you how to get your revenge 1 

“ I do want you to do it- La Corriveau, and your reward 
shall be great ! ’’ answered Angelique with a burst of im- 
patience. She could beat about the bush no longer. 

‘‘To kill a woman or a man were of itself a pleasure even 
without the profit,’’ replied La Corriveau, doggedly. “ But 
why should I run myself into danger for you. Mademoiselle 
des Meloises ? Have you gold enough to balance the risk ? ” 
Angelique had now fairly overleaped all barriers of re- 
serve. “ I will give you more than your eyes, ever beheld, 
if you will serve me in this matter. Dame Dodier I” 

“ Perhaps so, but I am getting old and trust neither man 
nor woman. Give a pledge of your good faith, before you 
speak one word farther to me on this business. Mademoi- 
selle des Meloises.” Le Corriveau held out her double 
hands significantly. 


WEIRD SISTERS, 


385 

“ A pledge? that is gold you want !’’ replied Angelique. 

‘‘ Yes, La Corriveau ; I will bind you to me with chains of 
gold, you shall ha.ve it uncounted, as I get it. Gold enough 
to make you the richest woman in St. Valier, the richest 
peasant woman in New France.’’ 

“ I am no peasant woman,” replied La Corriveau with 
a touch of pride, ‘‘ I come of a race ancient and terrible as 
the Roman Caesars ! but pshaw ! what have you to do with 
that ? give me the pledge of your good faith and I will help 
you ! ” 

Angelique rose instantly, and opening the drawer of 
an escritoire took out a long sill^en purse filled with Louis 
d’or which peeped and glittered through the interstices of 
the net-work. She gave it with the air of one who c'ared 
nothing for money 

La Corriveau extended both hands eagerly, clutching 
as with the claws of a Harpy. She pressed the purse to 
her thin bloodless lips and touched with the ends of her 
bony fingers, the edges of the bright coin visible through the 
silken net. 

‘‘ This is indeed a rare earnest penny !” exclaimed La 
Corriveau, “ I will do your whole bidding. Mademoiselle, 
only I must do it in my own way. I have guessed aright 
the nature of your trouble and the remedy you seek. But 
1 cannot guess the name of your false lover nor that of the 
woman whose doom is sealed from this hour.” 

“ I will not tell you the name of my lover,” replied An- 
gelique. She was reluctant to mention the name of Bigot 
as her lover. The idea was hateful to her. “ The name of 
the woman I cannot tell you, even if I would,” added she. 

“ How, Mademoiselle ? you put the death mark upon 
one you do not know ? ” 

“ I do not know her name. Nevertheless, La Corriveau, 
that gold and ten times as much is yours if you relieve me 
of the torment of knowing that the secret chamber of 
Beaumanoir contains a woman whose life is. death to all 
my hopes, and disappointment to all my plans. 

The mention of Beaumanoir startled La Corriveau. 

“ The Lady of Beaumanoir ! ” she exclaimed, ‘‘ whom 
the Abenaquis brought in from Acadia ? I saw that lady in 
the woods of St. Valier, when I was gathering mandrakes 
one summer day. She asked me for some water in God’s 
name. I cursed her silently, but I gave her milk. I had 

25 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


386 

no water. She thanked me. Oh, how she thanked me ! no 
body ever before thanked La Corriveau so sweetly as she 
did ! I, even I bade her a good journey, when she started 
on afresh with her Indian guides, after asking me the 
distance and direction of Beaumanoir. 

This unexpected touch of sympathy surprised and 
revolted Angelique a little. 

“ You know her then ! That is rare fortune. La Corri- 
veau,’’ said she, “ she will remember you, you will have 
less difficulty in gaining access to her and winning her 
confidence. 

La Corriveau clapped her hands, laughing a strange 
laugh, that sounded as if it came from a deep well. 

‘‘ Know her ? That is all I know ; she thanked me 
sweetly. I said so, did I not? but I cursed her in my 
heart, when she was gone. I saw she was both beautiful 
and good, two things I hate.” 

Do you call her beautiful ? I care not whether she be 
good, that will avail nothing with him ; but is she beauti- 
ful, La Corriveau ? Is she fairer than I, think you ? ” 

La Corriveau looked at Angelique intently and laughed. 
“ Fairer than you ? listen ! It was as if I had seen a vision. 
She was very beautiful, and very sad ; I could wish it were 
another than she, for Oh ! she spoke to me the sweetest 
I was ever spoken to since I came into the world.” 

Angelique ground her teeth with anger. ‘‘ What did you 
do. La Corriveau ? Did you not not wish her dead ; did you 
think the Intendant or any man could not help loving her 
to the rejection of any other woman in the world ? What 
did you do ? ” 

‘‘ Do ? I went on picking my mandrakes in the forest, 
and waited for you to send for La Corriveau ! You desire 
to punish the Intendant for his treachery in forsaking you 
for one more beautiful and better ! ” 

It was but a bold guess of La Corriveau, but she had 
divined the truth. The Intendant Bigot was the man who 
was playing false with Angelique. 

Her words filled up the measure of Angelique’s jealous 
hate, and confirmed her terrible resolution. Jealousy is 
never so omnipotent as when its rank suspicions are fed 
and watered by the tales of others. 

‘‘ There can be but one life between her and me ! ” 
replied the vehement girl j “ Angelique des Meloises would 


WEIRD SISTERS. 


3S7 

die a thousand deaths rather than live to feed on the 
crumbs of any man’s love while another woman feasts 
at his table. 1 sent for you, La Corriveau, to take my gold 
and kill that woman ! ” 

‘‘ Kill that woman ! It is easily said, Mademoiselle, but 
I will not forsake you were she the Madonna herself ! I 
hate her for her goodness, as you hate her for her beauty. 
Lay another purse by the side of this, and in thrice three 
days there shall be weeping in the Chateau of Beauman- 
oir, and no one shall know who has killed the couchquean 
of the Chevalier Intendant ! ” 

Angelique sprang up with a cry of exultation like a 
Pantheress seizing her prey. She clasped La Corriveau in 
her arms, and kissed her dark withered cheek, exclaiming, 
‘‘yes ! that is her name, his couchquean she is ! His wife, 
she is not, and never shall be ! — Thanks ! a million golden 
thanks. La Corriveau, if you fulfil your prophecy. In 
thrice three days from this hour, was it not that you said ? ” 

La Corriveau cared not for caresses, and strove to 
release herself as Angelique impetuously wound one of her 
long golden locks round her neck. “ I would not let you 
touch my hair before,” said she “ I wind it round you now, 
in token of my love and my desire to bind you forever to 
my fortunes.” 

“Tush ! your love ! save such folly for men ; it is lost on 
me !” replied La Corriveau, releasing herself from the clasp 
of Angelique and unwinding the long golden tress that 
encircled her throat. 

“ Understand me ! ” said La Corriveau, “ I serve you 
for your money, not for your liking ! but I have my own 
joy in making my hand felt in a world which I hate and 
which hates me ! ” La Corriveau held out her hands as if 
the ends of her fingers were trickling poison. “ Death 
drops on whomsoever I send it,” said she, “ so secretly and 
so subtly that the very spirits of air cannot detect the trace 
of the Aqua TofanaP 

Angelique listened with amaze, yet trembled with eager- 
ness to hear more. “ What ! La Corriveau, have you the 
secret of the Aqua Tofana which the world believes was 
burnt with its possessors two generations ago, on the place 
De Greve ? ” 

“ Such secrets never die,” replied the poisoner, “ they 
are too precious ! Few men, still fewer womer^ are there, 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


388 

who would not listen at the door of Hell, to learn them. 
The King in his palace, the Lady in her tapestried cham- 
ber, the Nun in her cell, the very beggar on the street, 
would stand on a pavement of fire, to read the tablets 
which record the secret of the Aqiia Tofajia. Let me see 
your hand,” added she abruptly, speaking to Angelique. 

Angelique held out her hand, La Corriveau seized it ; 
she looked intently upon the slender fingers and oval palm. 
“ There is evil enough in these long sharp spatulm of 
yours,” said she, “to ruin the world. You are worthy to be 
the inheritrix of all I know. These fingers would pick fruit 
off the forbidden tree for men to eat and die ! The tempter 
only is needed, and he is never far off ! Angelique des 
Meloises ! I may one day teach you the grand secret \ 
meantime, I will show you that I possess it.” 


CHAPTER XXXVH. 

“flaskets of drugs, full to their wicked lips.” 

La Corriveau took the ebony casket from her bosom, 
and laid it solemnly on the table. “Do not cross yourself,” 
exclaimed she angrily, as she saw Angelique mechanically 
make the sacred sign. “There can come no blessings 
here. There is death enough in that casket to kill every 
man and woman in New France.” 

Angelique fastened her gaze upon the casket as if she 
would have drawn out the secret of its contents by the very 
magnetism of her eyes. — She laid her hand upon it caress- 
ingly, yet tremblingly. — Eager, yet fearful, to see its con- 
tents. 

“ Open it ! ” cried La Corriveau, “ press the spring, and 
you will see such a casket of jewels as Queens might envy. 
It was the wedding gift of Beatrice Spara, and once be- 
longed to the house of Borgia — Lucrezia Borgia had it 
from her terrible father, and he, from the Prince of 
Demons ! ” 

Angelique pressed the little spring — the lid flew open, 
and there flashed from it, a light which for the moment 


FLASKETS OF DRUGS, &^C: 


389 

dazzled her eyes with its brilliancy. She thrust the casket 
from her in alarm, and retreated a few steps, imagining she 
smelt the odor of some deadly perfume. 

“ I dare not approach it,” said she. ‘‘ Its glittering 
terrifies me. Its odor sickens me.” 

“ Tush ! it is your weak imagination ! ” replied La Cor- 
riveau, “ your sickly conscience frightens you ! You will 
need to cast off both to rid Beaumanoir of the presence of 
your rival ! The Aqua Tofana in the hands of a coward 
is a gift as fatal to its possessor as to its victim.” 

Angelique with a strong effort tried to master her fear, 
but could not. She would not again handle the casket. 

La Corriveau looked at her as if suspecting this display 
of weakness. She then drew the casket to herself and took 
out a vial, gilt, and chased with strange symbols. It was 
not larger than the little finger of a delicate girl. Its con- 
tents glittered like a diamond in the sunshine. 

La Corriveau shook it up, and immediately the liquid 
was filled with a million sparks of fire. It was the Aqua 
7'ofana undiluted by mercy, instantaneous in its effect and 
not medicable by any antidote. Once administered, there 
was no more hope for its victim than for the souls of the 
damned who have received the final judgment. One drop 
of that bright water upon the tongue of a Titan, would 
blast him like Jove’s thunderbolt, would shrivel him up to a 
black unsightly cinder ! 

This was the poison of anger and revenge that would 
not wait for time, and braved the world’s justice. With 
that vial La Borgia killed her guests at the fatal banquet 
in her palace, and Beatrice Spara in her fury destroyed the 
fair Milanese who had stolen from her the heart of Antonio 
Exili. 

This terrible water was rarely used alone b} the poison- 
ers, but it formed the basis of a hundred slower potions 
which ambition, fear, avarice or hypocrisy mingled with the 
element of time and colored with the various hues and 
aspects of natural disease. 

Angelique sat down, and leaned towards La Corriveau, 
supporting her chin on the palms of her hands as she bent 
eagerly over the table, drinking in every word as the hot sand 
of the desert drinks in the water poured upon it. ‘‘ What is 
that ? ” said she, pointing to a vial as white as milk and 
seemingly as harmless. 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


390 


“ That ! ’’ replied La Corriveau, “ is the milk of mercy, 
It brings on painless consumption, and decay. It eats the 
life out of a man, while the moon empties and fills once or 
twice. His friends say he dies of quick decline, and so 
he does ! ha ! ha ! when his enemy wills it ! The strong 
man becomes a skeleton, and blooming maidens sink into 
their graves blighted and bloodless, with white lips and 
hearts that cease gradually to beat, men know not why. 
Neither saint nor sacrament can arrest the doom of the 
milk of mercy.’’ 

“ This vial,” continued she, lifting up another from the 
casket and replacing the first, licking her thin lips with 
profound satisfaction as she did so. “ This contains the 
acrid venom, that grips the heart like the claws of a tiger, 
and* the man drops down dead at the time appointed ! 
Fools say he died of the visitation of God ! The visitation 
of God ! ” repeated she, in an accent of scorn, and the foul 
witch spat as she pronounced the sacred name. “ Leo in 
his sign ripens the deadly nuts of the East, which kill 
when God will not kill ! He who has this vial for a posses- 
sion is the lord of life ! ” She replaced it tenderly. It was 
a favorite vial of La Corriveau. 

“This one,” continued she, taking up another, “strikes 
the dead palsy, and this kindles the slow inextinguishable 
fires of Typhus. Here is one that dissolves all the juices of 
the body and the blood of a man’s veins runs into a lake of 
dropsy. This ! ” taking up a green vial, “ contains the 
quintessence of mandrakes distilled in the Alembic when 
Scorpio rules the hour. Whoever takes this liquid,” — La 
Corriveau shook it up lovingly, — “ dies of torments incura- 
ble as the foul disease of lust which it simulates and 
provokes.” 

There was one vial which contained a black liquid like 
oil. “It is a relic of the past,” said she, “an heir-loom 
from -the Untori^ the ointers of Milan. With that oil they 
spread death through the doomed city, anointing its doors* 
and thresholds with the plague until the people died. 

The terrible tale of the ointers of Milan, has since the 
days of La Corriveau been written in choice Italian by 
Manzoni, in whose wonderful book, he that will may 
read it. 

“ This vial,” continued the witch, “ contains innumera- 
ble griefs, that wait upon the pillows of rejected and heart 


FLASJCETS OF DRUGS, 


391 


broken lovers, and the wisest physicians are mocked with 
lying appearances of disease that defy his skill and make 
a fool of his wisdom. 

“ Oh, say no more ! ’’ exclaimed Angelique, shocked 
and terrified. However inordinate in her desires, she was 
dainty in her ways. ‘‘ It is like a sabbat of witches to hear 
you talk. La Corriveau ! ’’ cried she, ‘‘ I will have none of 
those foul things which you propose. My rival shall die 
like a lady ! I will not feast like a vampire on her dead 
body, nor shall you. You have other vials in the casket of 
better hue and flavor. What is this ’’ continued Angelique 
taking out a rose-tinted and curiously twisted bottle sealed 
on the top with the mystic pentagon. “ This looks prettier 
and may be not less sure than the milk of mercy in its 
effect, what is it ? ’’ Ha ! Ha ! laughed the woman with 
her weirdest laugh. Your wisdom is but folly, Angelique 
des Meloises ! You would kill and still spare your enemy ! 
That was the smelling bottle of La Brinvilliers, who took 
it with her to the great Ball at the Hotel de Ville, where 
she secretly sprinkled a few drops of it upon the handker- 
chief of the fair Louise Gauthier, who, the moment she put 
it to her nostrils, fell dead upon the floor ! She died and 
gave no sign, and no man knew how or why ! But she 
was the rival of Brinvilliers for the love of Gaudin de St. 
Croix, and in that she resembles the lady of Beaumanoir, as 
you do La Brinvilliers ! ’’ 

‘‘ And she got her reward ! I would have done the same 
thing for the same reason ! what more have you to relate 
of this most precious vial of your casket ? ’’ asked Angelique. 

“ That its virtue is unimpaired. Three drops sprinkled 
upon a Bouquet of flowers, and its odor breathed by man 
or woman, causes a sudden swoon from which there is no 
awakening more in this world. People feel no pain, but die 
smiling as if Angels had kissed away their breath. Is it 
not a precious toy. Mademoiselle ? ’’ 

“ Oh ! blessed vial ! ” exclaimed Angelique, pressing it 
to her lips, “ thou art my good Angel to kiss away the 
breath of the lady of Beaumanoir ! She shall sleep on roses, 
La Corriveau, and you shall make her bed ! ” 

“ It is a sweet death, befitting one who dies for love, or 
is killed by the jealousy of a dainty rival,’’ replied the 
witch, ‘‘ but I like best those draughts which are most 
bitter and not less sure.” 


392 


THE CHIEN HOE, 


The lady of Beaumanoir will not be harder to kill 
than Louise Gauthier ! ’’ replied Angelique, watching the 
glitter of the vial in the lamplight. ‘‘ She is unknown even 
to the servants of the ChMeau, nor will the Intendant him- 
self dare to make public either her life or death in his 
house.’’ 

“ Are you sure, Mademoiselle, that the Intendant will 
not dare to make public the death of that woman in the 
Chateau 1 ” asked La Corriveau, with intense eagerness ; 
the consideration was an important link of the chain 
which she was forging. 

‘‘ Sure ? yes, I am sure by a hundred tokens ! ” said 
Angelique, with an air of triumph. “ He dare not even 
banish her for my sake, lest the secret of her concealment 
at Beaumanoir become known. We can safely risk his 
displeasure even should he suspect that I have cut the 
knot he knew not how to untie.” 

You are a bold girl !” exclaimed La Corriveau, look- 
ing on her admiringly, ‘‘you are worthy to wear the 
crown of Cleopatra, the queen of all the gypsies and en- 
chantresses, I shall have less fear now to do your bidding, 
for you have a stronger spirit than mine to support you.” 

“ ’Tis well. La Corriveau ! Let this vial of Brinvilliers 
bring me the good fortune I crave, and I will fill your lap 
with gold. If the lady of Beaumanoir shall find death in 
a bouquet of flowers, let them be roses ! ” 

“ But how and where to find roses ? they have ceased 
blooming,” said La Corriveau, hating Angelique’s sen- 
timent, and glad to find an objection to it. 

“ Not for her, La Corriveau, fate is kinder than you 
think ! ” Angdique threw back a rich curtain and disclosed 
a recess filled with pots of blooming roses and flowers of 
various hues. “ The roses are blooming here which will 
form the bouquet of Beaumanoir.” 

“You are of rare ingenuity. Mademoiselle,” replied La 
Corriveau, admiringly, “ if Satan prompts you not, it is 
because he can teach you nothing either in love or strata- 
gem.” 

“ Love !” replied Angelique quickly, “ do not name 
that ! no ! I have sacrificed all love, or I should not be 
taking counsel of La Corriveau ! ” 

Angelique’s thoughts flashed back upon Le Gardeur 
for ona regretful moment, “ No, it is not love,” continued 


FLASKETS OF DRUGS, &-CT 


393 


she,' but the duplicity of a man before whom I have lower- 
ed my pride. It is the vengeance I have vowed upon a 
woman, for whose sake I am trifled with ! It is that 
prompts me to this deed ! But no matter, shut up the 
casket. La Corriveau, we will talk now of how and when 
this thing is to be done.’’ 

The witch shut up her infernal casket of ebony, leaving 
the vial of Brinvilliers shining like a ruby in the lamplight 
upon the polished table. 

The two women sat down, their foreheads almost 
touching together, with their eyes flashing in lurid sym- 
pathy as they eagerly discussed the position of things in 
the Chateau. The apartments of Caroline, the hours of 
rest and activity were all well known to Angelique, who 
had adroitly fished out every fact from the unsuspecting 
Fanchon Dodier, as had also La Corriveau. 

It was known to Angelique that the Intendant would 
be absent from the city for some days in consequence of 
the news from France. The unfortunate Caroline would be 
deprived of the protection of his vigilant eye. 

The two women sat long arranging and planning their 
diabolical scheme. There was no smile upon the cheek of 
Angelique now. Her dimples which drove men mad had 
disappeared. Her lips, made to distil words sweeter than 
honey of Hybla, were now drawn together in hard lines 
like La Corriveau’s ; they were cruel and untouched by a 
single trace of mercy. 

Her golden hair swept loosely over her white robe. It 
might have served for the adornment of an angel; in the 
intensity of her feelings it seemed to curl like the fabled 
snakes on the head of Megaera. Her face under the in- 
fluence of diabolical thoughts seemed to put on the 
likeness, the very features of La Corriveau. As their eyes 
met while contriving their wicked scheme, each saw her- 
self reflected in the face of the other. 

The hours struck unheeded on the clock in the room, 
as it ticked louder and louder like a conscious monitor 
beside them. Its slow finger had marked each wicked 
thought and recorded for all time each murderous word as 
it passed their cruel lips. 

La Corriveau held the casket in her lap with an air of 
satisfaction, and sat with' eyes fixed on Angelique, who 
was now silent. 


394 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


Water the roses well, Mademoiselle,” said she, “ in 
three days I shall be here for a bouquet, and in less than 
thrice three days I promise you there shall be a dirge 
mng for the lady of Beaumanoir. 

“Only let it be done soon and surely,” replied 
\ngelique, her very voice grew harsh, “ but talk no more 
')f it, your voice sounds like a cry from a dark gallery that 
ieads to hell ! Would it were done ! I could then shut up 
I he memory of it in a tomb of silence, for ever, for ever ! 
and wash my hands of a deed done by you, not me ! ” 

“ A deed done by you, not me !” she repeated the 
words, as if repeating them made them true. She would 
shut up the memory of her crime for ever ; she reflected 
not that the guilt is in the evil intent, and the sin the same 
before God even if the deed be never done. 

Angelique was already an eager sophist. She knew 
better than the wretched creature whom she had bribed 
with money, how intensely wicked was the thing she was 
tempting her to do, but her jealousy maddened her, 
and her ambition could not let her halt in her course. 

There was one thought which still tormented her : 
“ What would the Intendant think ? What would he say 
should he suspect her of the murder of Caroline ? ” She 
feared his scrutinizing investigation, but trusting in her 
power, she risked his suspicions, nay, remembering his 
words, made him in her own mind an accessory in the mur- 
der. 

If she remembered Le Gardeur de Repentigny at all at 
this moment, it was only to strangle the thought of him. 
She shied like a horse on the brink of a precipice when the 
thought of Le Gardeur intruded itself. Rising suddenly 
she bade La Corriveau be gone about her business lest she 
should be tempted to change her mind. 

La Corriveau laughed at the last struggle of dying con- 
science, and bade Angelique go to bed. “ It was two hours 
past midnight, and she would bid Fanchon let her depart 
to the house of an old crone in the city who would give 
her a bed and a blessing in the Devil’s name.” 

Angelique, weary and agitated, bade her begone in the 
Devil’s name if she preferred a curse to a blessing. The 
witch with a mocking laugh, rose and took her departure 
for the night. 

Fanchon, weary of waiting, had fallen asleep. She 


THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE. 395 

roused herself, offering to accompany her aunt in hopes of 
learning something of her interview with her mistress. 
All she got was a whisper that the jewels were found. La 
Corriveau passed out into the darkness, and plodded her 
way to the house of her friend, where she resolved to stay 
until she accomplished the secret and cruel deed she had 
undertaken to perform. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE. 

The Count de la Galissonniere was seated in his cabinet 
a week after the arrival of La Corriveau on her fatal 
errand. It was a plain, comfortable apartment he sat in, 
hung with arras and adorned with maps and pictures. It 
was there he held his daily sittings for the ordinary despatch 
of business with a few such councillors as the occasion 
required to be present. 

The table was loaded with letters, memorandums and 
bundles of papers tied up in official style. Despatches 
of royal ministers, bearing the broad seal of France. 
Reports from officers of posts far and near in New France 
lay mingled together with silvery strips of the inner bark 
of the birch, painted with hieroglyphics, giving accounts of 
war parties on the Eastern frontier and in the far West, 
signed by the totems of Indian chiefs in alliance with 
France. There was a newly arrived parcel of letters from 
the bold, enterprising Sieur de Verendrye, who was ex- 
ploring the distant waters of the Saskatchewan, and the 
land of the Blackfeet, and many a missive from mission- 
aries, giving account of wild regions which remain yet 
almost a terra incognita to the government which rules 
over them. 

The Governor’s Bureau in the Castle of St. Louis was 
not an idle, empty chamber in those days. It was filled 
with the spirits of ambition, conquest and war. From it as 
from the cave of Eolus, went forth storms and tempests, 
which shook the continent and carried the commands of 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


396 

Onontio, the Governor, to the Indian nations of the farth- 
est regions of North America. 

At the Governor’s elbow sat his friend Bishop Pont- 
briand with a secretary immersed in papers. In front of him 
was the Intendant with Varin, Penisault and d’Estebe. On 
one side of the table, La Come St. Luc was examining 
some Indian despatches with Rigaud de Vaudreuil, Claude 
B^auharnois, and the venerable Abbe Piquet, over- 
looking with deep interest the rude pictorial dispatches in 
the hands of La Come. Two gentlemen of the law in 
furred gowns and bands stood waiting at one end of the 
room with books under their arms and budgets of papers 
in their hands ready to argue before the council some 
knotty point of controversy arising out of the concession 
of certain fiefs and jurisdictions granted under the Feudal 
laws of the colony. 

The Intendant, although personally at variance with 
several of the gentlemen sitting at the council table, did 
not let that fact be visible in his countenance, nor allow it 
to interfere with the despatch of public business. 

The Intendant was gay and easy to-day as was his 
wont, wholly unsuspecting the foul treason that was plot- 
ting by the woman he admired, against the woman he 
loved. His opinions were sometimes loftily expressed, but 
always courteously as well as firmly. 

Bigot never drooped a feather in face of his enemies 
public or private, but laughed and jested with all at table 
in the exuberance of a spirit which cared for no one, 
and only reined itself in when it was politic to flatter his 
patrons and patronesses at Versailles. 

In an inner apartment, whose walls were covered with 
tiers of books, forming the private library of the Gover- 
nor, might be seen through a half open door the portly 
form and large flaxen head of Peter Kahn. 

The enthusiastic investigator of science sat by himself 
at a table entrenched behind a wall of volumes which he 
had taken dowm from their shelves, and continued to pile 
up on the table before him as he consulted them. His 
broad, florid face was largely visible, like a full moon peer- 
ing over the edge of an eastern hill. 

The business of the council had begun. The mass of 
papers which, lay at the left hand of the Governor, were 
opened and read seriatim by his Secretary, and debated, 


THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE. 39 ^ 

referred, decided upon, or judgment postponed, as the case 
seemed best to the Council. 

The Count was a man of method and despatch, clear 
headed and singularly free from prejudice, ambiguity or 
hesitation. He was honest and frank in council as he was 
gallant on the quarter deck. The Intendant was not a 
.whit behind him in point of ability and knowledge of the 
political affairs of the colony, and surpassed him in influ- 
ence at the court of Louis XV. but less frank, for he had 
much to conceal, and kept authority in his own hands as 
far as he was able. 

Disliking each other profoundly from the total diverg- 
ence of their characters, opinions and habits, the Governor 
and Intendant still met courteously at the council table, 
and not without a certain respect for the rare talents which 
each recognized in the other. 

Many of the papers lying before them were on subjects 
relating to the internal administration of the colony. 
Petitions of the people suffering from the exactions of the 
commissaries of the army, remonstrances against the 
late decrees of the Intendant, and arrUs of the high 
court of justice confirming the right of the Grand Com- 
pany to exercise certain new monopolies of trade. 

The discussions were earnest and sometimes warm on 
these important questions. La Come St. Luc assailed 
the new regulations of the Intendant, in no measured' 
terms of denunciation, in which he was supported by 
Rigaud de Vaudreuil and the Chevalier de Beauharnois. 
But Bigot, without condescending to the trouble of defend- 
ing the ordinances on any sound principle of public policy, 
which he knew to be useless and impossible with the clev- 
er men sitting at the table, contented himself with a cold 
smile at the honest warmth of La Come St. Luc, and 
simply bade his Secretary read the orders and despatches 
from Versailles, in the name of the Royal Ministers, and 
approved of by the King himself in a Lit de yustice which 
had justified every act done by him in favor of the Grand 
Company. 

The Governor, trammelled on all sides by the powers, 
conferred upon the Intendant, felt unable to exercise the 
authority he needed, to vindicate the cause of right and 
justice in the colony. His own instructions confirmed the 
pretensions of the Intendant, and of the Grand Company. 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


398 

The utmost he could do in behalf of the true interests of 
the people and of the King, as opposed to the herd oi 
greedy courtiers and selfish beauties who surrounded him. 
was to soften the deadening blows they dealt upon the 
trade and resources of the colony. 

A decree authorizing the issue of an unlimited quantity 
of paper bills, the predecessors of the assignats of the ‘ 
Mother Country, was strongly advocated by Bigot, who 
supported his views with a degree of financial sophistry 
which showed that he had effectively mastered the science 
of delusion and fraud of which Law had been the great 
teacher in France, and the Mississippi scheme, the proto- 
type of the Grand Company, the great exemplar. 

La Come St. Luc opposed the measure forcibly. 

He wanted no paper lies,” he said, “ to cheat the hus- 
bandman of his corn and the laborer of his hire. If the 
gold and silver had all to be sent to France to pamper the 
luxuries of a swarm of idlers at the court, they could 
buy and sell as they had done in the early days of the col- 
ony, with beaver skins for livres, and musk-rat skins for 
sous. “ These paper bills, ” continued he, had been tried on 
a small scale by the Intendant Hoquart, and on a small 
scale had robbed and impoverished the colony. If this 
new Mississippi scheme propounded by new Laws ; ” and 
here La Come glanced boldly at the Intendant, “is to be 
enforced on the scale proposed, there will not be left in the 
colony one piece of silver to rub against another. It will 
totally beggar New-France, and may in the end bankrupt 
the royal treasury of France itself if called on to redeem 
them.” 

“Promise is not pay!” exclaimed the old soldier, 
“just as hunger is not meat ! He would trust no man, he 
would not trust himself, ” he added parenthetically, “ with 
the power of making money out of rags, and of circulating 
lies for livres. The honest habitans knew the value of 
beaver skins in barter for their corn, but they knew no 
value that could be fixed on scraps of paper which might 
be as plentiful and would be as worthless as the leaves of 
the forest I ” 

The discussion rolled on for an hour. The Count lis- 
tened in silent approbation to the arguments of the gentle- 
men opposing the measure, but he had received private im- 
perative instructions from the king to aid the Intendant in 


THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE. 


399 


the issue of the new paper money. The Count reluctantly 
sanctioned a decree, which filled New-France with worthless 
assignats, the non-redemption of which completed the 
misery of the colony and aided materially in its final sub- 
jugation by the English. 

The pile of papers upon the table gradually diminished 
as they were opened and disposed of. The council itself 
was getting weary of a long sitting and showed an evident 
wish for its adjournment. The gentleman of the law did 
not get a hearing of their case that day but were well con- 
tent to have it postponed, because a postponement meant 
new fees and increased costs for their clients. The law- 
yers of old France, whom LaFontaine depicts in his lively 
fable as swallowing the oyster and handing to each 
litigant an empty shell, did not differ in any essential point 
from their brothers of the long robe in New-France, and 
differed nothing at all in the length of their bills, and the 
sharpness of their practice. 

The breaking up of the council was deferred by the 
secretary opening a package sealed with the royal seal and 
which contained other sealed papers marked special for his 
Excellency the Governor. The secretary^ handed them to the 
Count who read over the contents with deep interest and a 
changing countenance. He laid them down and took 
them up again, perused them a second time and passed 
them over to the Intendant, who read them with a start of 
surprise, and a sudden frown on his dark eyebrows. But he 
instantly suppressed it, biting his nether lip, however, with 
anger which he could not wholly conceal. 

He pushed the papers back to the Count with a non- 
chalant air, as of a man who had quite made up his mind 
about them, saying in a careless manner. 

“ The commands of Madame La Marquise de Pompa- 
dour shall be complied with,’’ said he, “ I will order strict 
search to be made for the missing Demoiselle, who I sus- 
pect will be found in some camp or fort, sharing the couch 
of some lively fellow, who has won favor in her bright 
eyes.” 

Bigot saw danger in these despatches and in the look 
of the Governor who would be sure to exercise the 
utmost diligence in carrying out the commands of the 
court in this matter. 

Bigot for a few moments seemed lost in reflection. He 


400 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


looked round the tableland seeing many eyes fixed upon him 
spoke boldly, almost with a tone of defiance. 

‘‘ Pray explain to the councillors the nature of this des- 
patch, your Excellency ! said he to the Count, “ What it 
contains is not surprising to any one who knows the fickle 
sex, and no gentleman can ‘avoid feeling for the noble 
Baron de St. Castin ! ” 

‘‘ And for his daughter too, Chevalier ! ’’ replied the gov - 
ernor. ‘‘ It is only through their virtues that such women 
are lost. But it is the strangest tale I have heard in New- 
France!’’ 

The gentlemen seated at the table looked at the gov- 
ernor in some surprise. La Come St. Luc, hearing the name 
of the Baron de St. Castin, exclaimed ! What in God’s 
name, your Excellency, what is there in that despatch affec- 
ting my old friend and companion in arms, the Baron de 
St. Castin ? ” 

I had better explain,” replied the Count : It is no 
secret in France and will not long be a secret here.” 

‘‘ This letter, gentlemen,” continued he, addressing the 
Councillors and holding it open in his hand, “ is a pathet- 
ic appeal from the Baron De St. Castin, whom you all 
know, urging me by every consideration of friendship, hon- 
or and public duty, to aid in finding his daughter, Caroline 
de St. Castin, who has been abducted from her home in 
Acadia, and who after a long and vain search for her by 
her father in France, where it was thought she might have 
gone, has been traced to this colony, where it is said she 
is living concealed under some strange alias, or low 
disguise. 

“ The other despatch,” continued the governor, is from 
the Marquise de Pompadour, affirming the same thing, 
and commanding the most rigorous search to be made for 
Mademoiselle de St. Castin. In language hardly official, 
the Marquise threatens to make Stock-fish, that is her 
phrase, of whosoever has had a hand in either the abduc- 
tion or the concealment of the missing lady.” 

The attention of every gentleman at the table was 
roused by the words of the Count. But La Come St. 
Luc could not repress his feelings. He sprang up, striking 
the table with the palm of his hand until it sounded like the 
shot of a petronel. 

By St. Christopher the Strong ! ” exclaimed he, T 


THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE. 401 

would cheerfully have lost a limb rather than heard such 
a tale told by my dear old friend and comrade, about that 
angelic child of his, whom I have carried in my arms like 
a lamb of God, many and many a time !’’ 

“ You know, gentlemen, what befel her ! ” the old 
soldier looked as if he could annihilate the Intendant 
with the lightning of his eyes. I affirm and will main- 
tain that no Saint in Heaven was holier in her purity, than 
she was in her fall ! Chevalier Bigot, it is for you to answer 
these despatches ! This is your work ! If Caroline de 
St. Castin be lost, you know where to find her ! ’’ 

Bigot started up in a rage mingled with fear, not of 
La Come St. Luc, but lest the secret of Caroline’s con- 
cealment at Beaumanoir should become known. The furi- 
ous letter of La Pompadour repressed the prompting of his 
audacious spirit to acknowledge the deed openly and defy 
the consequences ; as he would have done at any less 
price than the loss of the favor of his powerful and jealous 
patroness. 

The broad black gate-way of a lie stood open to receive 
him, and angry as he was at the words of St. Luc, Bigot 
took refuge in it — and lied. 

“Chevalier La Come!” said he, with a tremendous ' 
effort at self control. “ I do not affect to misunderstand 
your words, and in time and place will make you account 
for them 1 but I will say for the contentment of His Excel- 
lency and of the other gentlemen at the council table, that 
whatever in times past have been my relations with the 
daughter of the Baron de St. Castin, and I do not deny 
having shown her many courtesies, her abduction was 
not my work, and if she be lost, I do not know where to 
find her 1 ” 

“ Upon your word as a gentleman ” interrogated the 
Governor, “ will you declare you know not where she is to 
be found ” 

“ Upon my word as a gentleman ! ” The Intendant’s 
face was suffused with passion. “You have no right to 
ask that ! neither shall you, Count de La Galissoniere ! 
But I will myself answer the despatch of Madame la 
Marquise de Pompadour ! I know no more, perhaps less, 
than yourself or the Chevalier La Come St. Luc, where to 
look for the daughter of the Baron de St. Castin; and I 
proclaim here that I am ready to cross swords with the first 

26 


402 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


gentleman who shall dare breathe a syllable of doubt 
against the word of Francois Bigot ! ” 

Varin and Penisault exchanged a rapid glance, partly 
of doubt, partly of surprise. They knew well, for Bigot 
had not concealed from his intimate associates, the fact 
that a strange lady, whose name they had not heard, was 
living in the secret chambers of the Chateau of Beaumanoir. 
Bigot never told any who she was, or whence she came. 
Whatever suspicion they might entertain in their own 
minds, they were too wary to express it. On the contrary, 
Varin, ever more ready with a lie than Bigot, confirmed with 
a loud oath the statement of the Intendant. 

La Come St. Luc looked like a baffled lion as Rigaud 
de Vaudreuil, with the familiarity of an old friend laid his 
hand over his mouth, and would not let him speak. Rigaud 
feared the coming challenge and whispered audibly in the 
ear of St. Luc. 

Count a hundred before you speak. La Come ! The 
Intendant is to be taken on his word just at present, like 
any other gentleman I Fight for fact, not for fancy ! Be 
prudent. La Come ! we know nothing to the contrary of 
what Bigot swears to 

“ But I doubt much to the contrary, Rigaud ! ’’ replied 
La Come, with accent of scorn and incredulity. 

The old soldier chafed hard under the bit, but his 
suspicions were not facts. He felt that he had no solid 
grounds upon which to accuse the Intendant in the special 
matter referred to in the letters. He was, moreover, 
although hot in temperament, soon master of himself and 
used to the hardest discipline of self control. 

‘‘ I was perhaps over hasty, Rigaud ! ’’ replied La 
Come St. Luc, recovering his composure ; ‘‘ but when I 
think of Bigot in the past, how can I but mistrust him in 
the present. However, be the girl above ground or under 
ground, I wiW, par Dieu, not leave a stone unturned in New 
France until I hnd the lost child of my old friend ! La 
Come St. Luc pledges himself to that, and he never broke 
his word ! ’’ 

He spoke the last words audibly, and looked hard at 
the Intendant. Bigot cursed him twenty times over 
between his teeth, for he knew La Corners indomitable 
energy and sagacity, that was never at fault in finding oi 
forcing a way to whatever he was in search of. It would 


THE BROAD BLACK GA TEW A Y OF A LIE. 403 

not be long before he would discover the presence of a 
, strange lady at Beaumanoir, thought Bigot, and just as 
certain would he be to find out that she was the lost 
daughter of the Baron de St. Castin. 

The good Bishop rose up when the dispute waxed 
warmest between the Intendant and La Come St. Luc. 
His heart was eager to allay the strife ; but his shrewd 
knowledge of human nature and manifold experience of 
human quarrels, taught him that between two such men 
the intercession of a Priest would not at that moment be of 
any avail. Their own notions of honor and self respect, 
would alone be able to restrain them from rushing into 
unseemly excesses of language and act; so the good 
Bishop stood with folded arms looking on and silently 
praying for an opportunity to remind them of the seventh 
holy beatitude, ‘‘ Beati Pacifici I ” 

Bigot felt acutely the difficulty of the position he had 
been placed in by the act of La Pompadour, in sending her 
despatch to the Governor instead of to himself. “ Why 
had she done that ? said he savagely to himself. Had 
she suspected him ? ’’ 

Bigot could not but conclude, that La Pompadour sus- 
pected him in this matter. He saw clearly that she would 
not trust the search after this girl to him, because she knew 
that Caroline de St. Castin had formerly drawn aside his 
heart, and that he would have married her but for the 
interference* of the Royal Mistress. Whatever might have 
been doned^efore in the way of sending Caroline back to 
Acadia, it could not.be done now, after he had boldly lied 
before the Governor and the honorable Council. 

One thing seemed absolutely necessary, however. The 
presence of Caroline at Beaumanoir must be kept secret 
at all hazards — until — until — and even Bigot for once was 
ashamed of the thoughts which rushed into his mind, 
— until — he could send her far into the wilderness, among 
savage tribes to remain there until the search for her was 
over and the affair forgotten. 

This was his first thought. But to send her away into 
the wilderness, was not easy. A matter which in France 
would excite the gossip and curiosity of a league or two of 
neighborhood, would be carried on the tongues of Indians 
and voyageurs in the wilds of North America for thousands 
of miles. To send her away without discovery seemed 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


4C4 

difficult. To retain her at Beaumanoir in face of the search 
which he knew would be made by the Governor and the 
indomitable La Come St. Luc, was impossible. The 
quandary oppressed him. He saw no escape from the 
dilemma ; but to the credit of Bigot be it said, that not for 
a moment did he entertain a thought of doing injury to 
the hapless Caroline, or of taking advantage of her lonely 
condition to add to her distress, merely to save himself. 

He fell into a train of sober reflections unusual to him 
at any time, and scarcely paid any attention to the discus- 
sion of affairs at the council table for the rest of the sitting. 
He rose hastily at last, despairing to find any outlet of 
escape from the difficulties which surrounded him in this 
unlucky affair. 

“With His Excellency’s consent,” he said, “ they would 
do no more business that day. He was tired and would rise. 
Dinner was ready at the palace where he had some wine 
of the golden plant of Ay- Ay, which he would match 
against the best in the Castle of St. Louis, if His Excel- 
lency and the other gentlemen would honor him with their 
company.” 

The Council, out of respect to the Intendant, rose at 
once. The despatches were shoved back to the secre- 
taries, and for the present forgotten in a buzz of lively 
conversation in which no man shone to greater advantage 
than Bigot. 

“ It is but a fast day, your Reverence ! ” ‘said he, ac- 
costing the Abbe Piquet, but if you will come and say 
grace over my graceless table, I will take it kindly of you. 
You owe me a visit, you know, and I owe you thanks for 
the way in which you looked reproof without speaking it, 
upon my dispute with the Chevalier La Come. It was 
better than words, and showed that you know the world 
we live in, as well as the world you teach us to live for 
hereafter. 

The Abbe bowed low to the invitation of the Inteiidant. 
It was not tempting in itself, for he knew by report what a 
free table the Intendant kept, but the politic churchman 
had objects of his own which he never for a moment lost 
sight of. He was one who, as the proverb says : would 
have dined with Satan for God’s sake and a sinner’s.” 

“ Thanks, your Excellency ! ” said he, smiling, “ I have 
txavelled uninvited, on snow-shoes, a hundred leagues 


THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OE A LIE, 405 

through the wilderness to christen or absolve a poor Indian, 
I cannot refuse to go a mile to say grace over your grace- 
less table, as you please to call it ! I try to be like my 
master, St. Paul, all things to all men, and I shall find my- 
self, I dare say, as much at home in the Palace as in the 
wigwam.” 

“ That is right well spoken, Abbe ! I like you mission- 
aries ! Your cold feet carry warm hearts ! You shall be 
welcome at the Palace of the Intendant as you are in the 
wigwam of the savage. Besides, I want to talk with you 
on the subject of that settlement you project at' La 
Presentation.” 

“ The main reason for which I accepted your invitation, 
Chevalier ! It is the one great thing upon my heart just 
now as a minister of God to my fellow-men.” 

‘‘ Well, if I cannot imitate you, I can admire you, Abbe ! 
and I promise you a clean table-cloth and full opportunity 
to convince the Intendant of the goodness of your scheme 
for bringing the proud Iroquois under the dominion of the 
King,” replied Bigot, heartily, and honestly, too, in this 
matter. 

The Abbe was charmed with the affability of Bigot and 
nourishing some hope of enlisting him heartily in behalf of 
his favorite scheme of Indian policy, left the Castle in his 
company. The Intendant also invited the Procureur du 
Roy and the other gentleman of the law who found it both 
politic, profitable and pleasant to dine at the bountiful and 
splendid table of the Palace. 

The Governor with three or four most intimate friends, 
the Bishop, La Come St Luc, Rigaud de Vaudreuil and 
the Chevalier de Beauharnois, remained in the room, con- 
versing earnestly together on the affair of Caroline de St. 
Castin, which awoke in all of them a feeling of deepest 
pity for the young lady and of sympathy for the distress of 
her father. They were lost in conjectures as to the quarter 
in which a search for her might be successful. 

There is not a fort, camp, house, or wigwam ; there 
is not a hole or hollow tree in New France where that poor 
broken-hearted girl may have taken refuge or been hid by 
her seducer, but I will find her out,” exclaimed La Come 
St Luc. Poor girl ! poor hapless girl ! How can I blame 
her ! like Magdelene, if she sinned much, it was because 
she loved much ! and cursed be either man or woman who 
will cast a stone at her ! ” 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


406 

‘‘ La Come ! ’’ replied the Governor, ‘‘ the spirit of 
chivalry will not wholly pass away while you remain to 
teach by your example the duty of brave men to fair 
women. Stay and dine with me and we will consider this 
matter thoroughly ! Nay, I will not have an excuse to-day. 
My old friend, Peter Kahn, will dine with us too, he is a 
philosopher ' as perfectly as you are a soldier ! So stay, 
and we will have something better than tobacco smoke to 
our wine to-day ! ’’ 

‘‘ The tobacco smoke is not bad either, your Excel- 
lency ! ’’ replied La Come, who was an inveterate smoker, 
‘‘I like your Swedish friend. He cracks nuts of wisdom 
with such a grave air that I feel like a boy sitting at his 
feet glad to pick up a kernel now and then. My practical 
philosophy is sometimes at fault, to be sure, in trying to ht 
his theories. But I feel that I ought to believe many 
things which I do not understand.” 

“ Well, you will stay then, and you too, Beauharnois 
and Rigaud t The Abbe Piquet has gone to say grace for 
the Intendant, but the Bishop will say grace over our table, 
we will have a feast of the Gods !' Ambrosia and Nectar 
on tables set upon the pinnacle of Olympus ! ” 

The gentlemen laughed and consented to dine with the 
hospitable Governor, who called to his friend, Peter Kahn, 
to join them. 

The Philosopher, immersed in his study, had not even 
heard the high voices of La Come St. Luc and the Intend- 
ant through the half open door of the library. His large 
flaxen head was bobbing up and down as he bent over the 
volumes, extracting this sentence and that, which he duly 
and carefully copied into his common-place book ‘‘ and 
salted down like meat,” he said, ‘‘ for a rainy day and a 
long winter.” 

Kalm heard the call of the Governor, however. He 
rose from behind his entrenchment of books. His friend’s 
well known voice recalled from the world of philosophy 
and speculation, to the world of actual life and sociability. 
He rejoined the governor and sat down at the table with 
them. 

‘‘ Kalm ! ” exclaimed the cheery voice of the Count, 
this is just as when we were together at Upsal in the good 
old times when we wore the student’s white cap with black 
brim. You remember how the lads called you the Engi- 


THE BROAD BLACK GATEWAY OF A LIE, 407 

neer, because you used to fortify your positions with such 
ramparts of quotations that they were unassailable as the 
walls of Midgard.” 

‘‘ Ah ! Count ! ’’ said he, “ those were indeed good 
times, before we found out the burthen of being old and 
wise overmuch. All was bright before us then. Nothing 
was dark behind. Every night we lay happy as birds in 
our nests with God’s wings brooding over us. Every 
morning was a new revelation of light and knowledge, of 
health, youth and joy. How proud young Linnaeus was of 
his brother giants ! His Jotuns, as he called us, of the new 
philosophy ; and we thought ourselves eagles, unfledged, 
ambitious brood that we were ! You have not forgotten 
our Northern speech. Count 

“Forgotten it, no! I would not willingly forget it! 
Listen, Kalm ! ” and the governor repeated with good 
accent the verse of an old Swedish ballad, a great favorite 
once among the students at Upsal : 

Sweriges man akter jag att lofva 
Om Gud, vill mig nader gifva ! 

Deras dygd framforamedakt och hag 
Den stund der jag ma lefva 1 

Swedish men I mean to praise, 

God stir my heart within me ! 

To boast their truth and manly ways 
So long as life is in me. 

“ That proves it, Kalm ! ” continued the governor en- 
thusiastically, “ I love both the old Northern land and its 
old Northern speech, which is only fit for the mouths of 
frank honest men, such as your brave Swedes. What says 
the old song of the Goths ? ” 

Allsmaktig Gud, han hafver them wiss 
Som Sverige aro tro ! 

Bade nu ock fdrro forutan all twiss 
Gud gifve them ro ! 

Svenske man ! I sagen ! Amen ! 

Som I Sveriges rike bo ! 

Almighty God ! hold firm and fast 
Thy faithful Swedes ! 

Who serve their country first and last 
In all its needs ! 

Amen ! Amen ! forever, then, 

God bless the land of Swedish men ! 


4o8 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


The eyes of Peter Kalm filled with moisture and his 
breast heaved at this cordial reference to his far-off home 
by the stormy Baltic. He grasped the hand of his friend. 

Thank you, Count ! thank you, Rolland Michael Barrin ! 
I never thought to hear my dear old country so kindly 
spoken of in this distant land ! Its praise is all the more, 
pleasing as coming from one who knows it so well and 
who is so just in all he says and all he does ! ’’ 

‘‘ Well, never mind ! ” the Count shyed off ever from a 
compliment. “ If I were not a Frenchman I should choose 
to be a Swede ! But the Castle bell is ringing to let the 
city know that his Excellency the Governor is going to 
dinner and during that time nobody is to interrupt him 
with business ! Business is over for to-day, Kalm ! I have 
kept my friends here on purpose to dine with you and eat 
and drink into mutual better acquaintance.” 

Kalm was delighted with his friend’s cordial manner 
and with the mention of dinner, for, just aroused from his 
books, after a long and arduous study he discovered that 
he had a nipping appetite. Like all wise men, Peter Kalm 
was a hearty eater and a sound drinker, stinting only for 
health and sobriety’s sake. He had fixed his pin low 
down in the tankard of enjoyment, and drank cheerfully 
down to it, thanking God, like a pious Swede, for all good 
things. 

The Count took his arm familiarly and followed by the 
other gentlemen proceded to the dining hall, where his 
table was spread in a style which, if less luxurious than the 
Intendant’s, left nothing to be desired by guests who were 
content with plenty of good cheer, admirable cooking, ad 
roit service and perfect hospitality. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

OLYMPIC CHARIOTS AND MUCH LEARNED DUST. 

Dinner at the table of the Count de la Galissonihre was 
not a dull affair of mere eating and drinking. The con- 
versation and sprightliness of the host fed the minds of his 
guests as generously as his bread strengthened their hearts, 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC, 


409 

or his wine, in the Psalmist^s words, made their faces to 
shine. Men were they, every one of them possessed of a 
sound mind in a sound body ; and both were well feasted 
at this hospitable table. 

The dishes were despatched in a leisurely and orderly 
manner, as became men who knew the value of both soul 
and body, and sacrificed neither to the other. When the 
cloth was drawn, and the wine flasks glittered ruby and gol- 
den upon the polished board, the old butler came in, bearing 
upon a tray a large silver box of tobacco, with pipes and 
stoppers, and a wax candle, burning, ready to light them, 
as then the fashion was in companies composed exclusively 
of gentlemen. He placed the materials for smoking upon 
the table, as reverently as a priest places his biretta upon 
the altar, — ^for the old butler did himself dearly love the 
Indian weed, and delighted to smell the perfume of it, as 
it rose in clouds over his master’s table. 

“ This is a bachelors’ banquet, gentlemen,” said the 
Governor, filling a pipe to the brim. “ We will take fair 
advantage of the absence of ladies to-day and offer incense 
to the good Manitou who first gave tobacco for the solace 
of mankind.” 

The gentlemen were all, as it chanced, honest smokers. 
Each one took a pipe from the stand, and followed the 
Governor’s example, except Peter Kalm, who more philo- 
sophically carried his pipe with him, — a huge meerschaum, 
clouded like a sunset on the Baltic. He filled it deliber- 
ately with tobacco, pressed it down with his finger and 
thumb, and, leaning back in his easy chair, after lighting 
it, began to blow such a cloud as the portly Burgomaster 
of Stockholm might have envied on a grand council night, 
in the old Raadhus of the city of the Goths. 

They were a goodly group of men, whose frank, loyal 
eyes looked openly at each other across the hospitable table. 
None of them but had travelled farther than Ulysses, and, 
like him, had seen strange cities, and observed many minds 
of men, and was as deeply read in the book of human ex- 
perience as ever the crafty King of Ithaca. 

The event of the afternoon — the reading of the Royal 
despatches — had somewhat dashed the spirits of the coun- 
cillors, for they saw clearly the drift of events which was 
sweeping New France out of the lap of her mother country, 
unless her policy were totally changed, and the hour of 


410 


THE CHIENHOR. 


need brought forth a man capable of saving France her- 
self, and her faithful and imperilled colonies. 

The Count was not slow to notice in the others the 
heavy thoughts he felt in himself, and he sought to banish 
them from his table by turning to other topics and draw- 
ing out some of the hidden stores of wisdom which he 
knew were hived up in the capacious brain of his Swedish 
friend. 

Kalm,” said he, leaning on his elbow, in the kind, 
familiar way that fascinated all men with the Count de la 
Galissoniere — We have turned over many new leaves 
since w^e studied together in Upsal. The tide of science 
has ebbed and flowed several times since then.^’ 

‘‘ And some of our leaves we have turned backwards, 
Count. An era of discovery is ever followed by an era of 
skepticism, which lasts until men learn how to subordinate 
their new theories to the old, eternal verities. Our age is 
growing more and more unbelieving every day. We light 
up our temples with new lamps, and forget that the sun is 
shining over us in the heavens as it always did ! 

“ I believe you, Kahn. The writings of Voltaire and 
Rousseau will bear evil fruit, of which if France eat to re- 
pletion, she will become mad.’’ 

She will become mad. Count ! Unbelief is in her 
brain, and she cannot control the fiery passions in her 
heart. Ah sit omen! I fear an age of terrible probation 
awaits your noble country. The first symptom of her de- 
cay is seen in her indifference to her noble colonies. She 
concentrates all her thought upon herself, — cares only for 
her own selfish interests.” 

The Governor reflected bitterly upon the despatches 
he had lately received. He knew that France was given 
up into the hands of extortioners and spendthrifts. Money 
was at the top, money at the bottom of every motive 
of action. The few were growing richer and richer, — the 
many, poorer and poorer — with a chasm opening between 
the two classes of society — between king and kingdom — 
which would one day plunge it into chaos. The colonies 
would go first, however. 

The Count would not utter the painful thoughts which 
oppressed him ; but by an effort wrenched the conversation 
into another channel. 

‘‘ Kalm ! ” said he. ‘‘ We often at Upsal debated the 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


411 

question of the antiquity of the earth especially with refer- 
ence to this new world of ours, which neither of us had 
then seen. What thinks Upsal now of the argument ? has 
she ever opened the question since, from her chairs of 
philosophy ? ’’ 

The Swede spoke confidently in reply : 

“ She has often done so. Count, and the argument is 
much advanced. A new light has arisen in our intellectual 
heaven which promises to illuminate all philosophy with 
its rays. 

‘‘ Aye ! I have heard somewhat of that, Kahn ! what 
does the new philosophy teach ? asked the Governor with 
interest expressed in every feature. 

It is less a new philosophy than a new illumination of 
the old,” replied Kahn. If we lay bare the foundations 
of things we shall see that the world is old .as time, and 
that before the creation was, time was not ; only eternity. 

‘‘ Aye ! that is a deep thought, and may be true, 
Kahn ! ” replied the Count reflectively. 

‘‘ I believe it is true. Count ; science points to revolu- 
tions and changes stretching back into the darkness of the 
past, as far as imagination can penetrate into the darkness 
of the future. The infinitely swift of the celestial motions 
of light and gravity has its opposite and counterpart in the 
infinitely slow of the changes that have taken place in the 
formations of our earth.” 

‘‘ You still regard the world as very old, Kalm ! It was 
your favorite argument at Upsal, I remember.” 

Then as now ! look here. Count ! ” Kalm took a piece 
of coal from a little cabinet of minerals ; it had been brought 
to the Governor by voyageurs from the western slopes of 
the Alleghany mountains. ‘‘ Millions of ages ago ” said he, 
“ in the depths of time, the sun was shining as brightly 
upon an earth covered with tropical vegetations as upon the 
equator to-day. This lump of coal, the condensation of 
vegetable growths is in its last analysis nothing but the 
heat and light of the sun elaborated into this concrete 
form. The last word of chemistry is heat and light and 
that only, but behind these is the cause of causes, the love 
and wisdom of God. Burn this coal, you release the long 
imprisoned rays of that ancient sun, and they give out the 
warmth and illumination of a primaeval universe.” 

‘‘ This fern,” continued the philosopher, plucking a 


412 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


Spray from the Sevres vase upon the table, “ is the expres- 
sion of a divine idea, the form of some use for man’s ser- 
vice or delight. Its tiny pores contain a principle of life 
capable of infinite multiplication for ever. What is that 
life ? God ! who in his love and in his wisdom is in all 
things according to their form and use. The conservation 
of the universe is perpetual creation. Every moment of 
its existence displays as great a miracle of divine power as 
was shown when the earth and the heavens were first made 
by his Word, The same power which called the world 
from chaos alone preserves it from falling back into the 
same.” 

‘‘‘ I like your philosophy, Kahn ! replied the Count. 
“ If the universe is to be regarded as the vesture of the all- 
pervading God. it may well seem eternal, although sub- 
ject to perpetual change. I can easily believe that the world 
is very old, and has seen'many, many renewals of both its 
youth and its age.” 

‘‘ And may see as many more. The form of matter is de- 
structible, but not its essence. Why Because in its origin 
it is spiritual, an emanation of the eternal logos by which 
all things were made that are made. The earth is God’s 
footstool in a sense higher than science has yet attained 
the height of.” 

“ That fern had a beginning,” remarked Beauharnois, 
who was profoundly interested in topics of this sort. 
“ Time was when it was not, — how know you, Herr Kalm, 
when it began 1 ” 

‘‘ In the book of the earth whose leaves are stone, the 
hieroglyphics of its history were written ere man appeared 
to record the ages and cycles of time. Nor can his arith- 
metic reckon back to the period when this fern began to 
flourish. We may read, however, of the order of its crea- 
tion in what the book of the beginning calls the third day. 
This part of America was then dry land, while Europe and 
Asia were still submerged under an ocean of tossing seas. 

You regard, then, the New World as really the old ? 
Herr Kalm ! and the elder born of all lands 1 ” asked 
Beauharnois. 

The smoke rose lightly from the philosopher’s pipe and 
curled in silvery clouds up to the ceiling. 

Unquestionably, Chevalier ! ” replied he, blowing a 
fragrant, gentle cloud ; “ I have compared North America, 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


413 


rock with rock, plant with plant, tree with tree ; fishes, birds, 
animals and men, all bear an archaic type of creation, 
before which the creations of Europe are but as things of 
yesterday/’ 

‘‘ Our savans of the Academy have as yet made only 
vague guesses about these things, Kahn ! ” said the Count, 
“ and I pretend not to be wiser than they, but I have heard 
La Come often declare that there was something so settled 
and petrified in the nature of the red men of America that 
he looked upon their very children as older in their 
instincts and ways than grown men of the white race. He 
has always said that our Indians bear the marks of an im- 
mense antiquity.” 

And of an antiquity,” interrupted La Come St. Luc, 
who had listened to the conversation with fixed attention, 
“ so old, ossified, and worn out, that it can never recover its 
spring and elasticity again. Nothing can bring back the 
youth of the red men, or change their ways. The very 
soul of the race has set and hardened in the form it will 
retain until it disappears from the earth.” 

“ And yet they may say of themselves, We are the 
heirs of a lost civilization which once filled America with 
its wonders, before the light of knowledge had dawned in 
any part of the old world,’ ” remarked Herr Kalm. 

“ I have seen in the tropics ruins of great cities and 
temples of strange Gods. I will not call them demons,” 
continued La Come. 

“ That would be unphilosophical as well as unchris- 
tian,” replied Herr Kalm, “ but there is one proof of the 
great antiquity of the red men which I am incapable of 
appreciating so well as you. The languages of these native 
tribes are, I believe, so nice in structure and exhibit such 
polish and smoothness of expression as can only have been 
acquired by ages of civilization, just as the round pebbles 
of the shore testify to the long continued action of the 
waves. An instrument of thought so perfect could not 
have been elaborated by wild hunters like those who now 
possess it.” 

“ It is one of the wonders of the Red men, Herr Kalm ! ” 
replied La Come. “ Their languages are so far superior 
to themselves that they must have come down from a great 
ancient civilization of which they have forfeited the herit- 
age and lost every tradition of it themselves.” 


414 


THE CHIENHOR. 


It is what T should have expected, and what I have 
found, Chevalier,’’ replied Kalm. ‘‘ Everything appertain- 
ing to the new world proclaims its vast antiquity. Its 
rocks were dry land when Europe was submerged in the 
ocean. I have lately gazed with wonder and veneration 
upon the old, old worn down mountains of the Laurentides, 
which are to all other mountains of the earth what the 
Pyramids of Egypt are to all other works of man. Their 
very look impresses one with an idea of the hoar of an 
unfathomable antiquity. There we find the veritable 
‘‘ bank and shoal of time ” which poets only have dreamt 
of, the first land that emerged from the universal sea when 
God said “ let the waters be gathered together in one 
place and let the dry land appear ! ” The Laurentides 
came into being while the old world and the rest of the 
new were only ideas pre-existing in the foreknowledge of 
the Divine Creator. There, if anywhere, will perhaps one 
day be discovered the first dawn of life upon our earth.” 

‘‘ Our existing flora and fauna should be also of a more 
antique type than those of the old world, a fact which 
philosophers begin to recognize, do they not 'I ” asked 
Beauharnois. 

“ Undoubtedly ! you recollect. Count ! ” said Kalm, 
turning to the Governor, Rudberg used to remark, that 
the horse, the elephant, the camel and the ox are not in- 
digenous to the new world, but that the buffaloes of the 
western plains are of the same archaic type as the mam- 
moth, while the turkey, the condor and the Llama bear the 
stamp of an older creation than any living creatures of 
Europe or Asia. 

A cabinet in the room contained some well preserved 
specimens of fishes and shells ; the Count was a great col- 
lector. Herr Kalm took from it one of those most ancient 
of fishes, a garpike from Lake Ontario, the last living 
species of a class of created beings that peopled the pri- 
maeval waters of the earth before ought else that now lives 
had heard the fiat of the Creator to come forth. 

Yours are the oldest of waters, as well as the oldest 
of lands, Count ! ” said he. The oldest forms of the old 
world are modern compared with this fish which is an 
idea come down to us from the depths of eternity. It tells 
us that that ancient world was a world of violence more, 
perhaps, than is ours now ; look at its armor of defence, 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


415 


its teeth of ravin, its shape for swift attack or escape. It 
is a terrible dream of the past ! How antique must 
not America be, Count ! to contain still living in its in- 
land seas, this relic of primeval times ! ’’ 

“ Shall we conclude then, that the native men of Amer- 
ica are not, a new but an old race, the fallen sons of a 
former and forgotten civilization ? ” asked Beauharnois ; 
“ and yet many learned men are of opinion that its primitive 
races came from Tartary and Japan.” 

'‘'‘Non liquet I’’’* If they had done so, they would not 
have failed to bring with them the horse, the cow and the 
sheep — animals coeval with man in Asia, and yet without 
these animals America was the scene of a great primeval 
civilization. ” 

‘‘ You always believed in that, Kalm ! ” said the gov- 
ernor, and you liked to read Plato’s account of the won- 
derful tale of Atlantis which was told to Solon by the Egyp- 
tian priests. ” 

‘‘And I believe it yet. Count ! Atlantis was known to the 
ancient world before the building of the Pyramids, but in- 
tercourse with it could only have been casual, else there 
would have been an interchange of the corn of Egypt and 
the maize of America. Some of the fruit trees of Asia would 
have been transplanted and found flourishing at the period 
of its rediscovery by Columbus ; I say its rediscovery ! for 
I claim for our Northmen, its first discovery. Count ! Its 
civilization may have been indigenous although its sun had 
set long before the dawn of Asia, yet not so completely but 
that its reflection like a roseate sky in the west overhung 
Mexico and Peru, down to the period of Spanish discovery 
and destruction. 

“ It extended far beyond Mexico and Peru,” replied 
La Come. “ In my travels over the Continent even up to 
the Rocky Mountains, I have met with mounds and re- 
mains of ancient cities overgrown with forests and half 
resolved into their primal clay. Down in the deep forests 
of the tropics are still more wonderful ruins of stone tem- 
ples with images, carved work and inscriptions, like those 
of Egypt which remain to prove the early civilization of 
America.” 

“ Here is some confirmation of it. La Come, ” replied 
the Governor I received to-day a letter from the Sieur 
de Verendrye, who informs me that on the far-off rugged 


4i6 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


shores of Lake Superior he has found ancient workings in 
mines of copper, lead and silver ; workings of times long 
past and by nations utterly forgotten by the present rude 
tribes that occupy the country.’’ 

“ Perhaps it maybe so, Count ” replied Kalm. All those 
territories may in some remote age have formed one vast 
empire. The Americans, like the Chinese, have many 
languages and but one system of Hieroglyphics understood 
by all . Those painted strips of bark upon your council table. 
Governor, would be read with ease by every Indian from 
the Northern Seas to the Gulf of Mexico. 

The wine cups were replenished, and in the lull of con- 
versation fragrant columns of tobacco smoke rose and min- 
gled gently in a silvery cloud over the heads of the group 
of friends. 

The conversation shifted to other topics — Rigaud de 
Vaudreuil had kept quiet during the recent discussion. He 
was a soldier and a patriot, brave and honest, but he would 
not waste a word on antiquarian subjects which he did 
not understand, and in his heart thoroughly despised. But 
he was eager to question the northern philosopher on his 
opinions respecting the war and the political signs of the 
times. 

“ You have had the privilege of a passport through 
England as well as her colonies, Herr Kalm,” said he, “ I 
do not ask you to tell what you saw in regard to military 
preparations — that would be a breach of the laws of honor, 
as well as of hospitality ; but it would be no breach of either 
to ask your opinion of the general policy of the English in 
regard to North America.” 

‘‘ It is to conquer New France, neither more nor less ! ” 
replied Kalm, curtly. The English colonies never cease 
urging it out of fear of you, and the mother country is too 
ready to reap the glory of humbling her rival without re- 
gard to the consequences of such a conquest. England 
and her colonies in America seem as one in making this 
the corner stone of their policy.” 

“ It is what we have all believed, and what for a hun- 
dred years they have tried to do,” replied Rigaud de Vau- 
dreuil ; ‘‘they will succeed in it when every man worthy of 
the name of Canadian lies stark and stiff upon the frontiers 
— but not until then. I thank you cordially, Herr Kalm,” 
Rigaud shook him by the hand, “for telling the truth, how- 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


417 


ever unpalatable. But you spoke of the consequences of 
such a conquest, Herr Kalm, — what do you mean by the 
consequences?’’ 

That France will have her revenge, Monsieur de Vau- 
dreuil. I have travelled through the English colonies with 
little credit to my eyes and ears if I have not convinced my- 
self, that it is only fear of the power of France which keeps 
New England in subordination to the mother country. The 
spirit of the English commonwealth of a century ago 
smoulders hot in the bosoms of the old Parliamentarians 
of New England. They could be true to a Cromwell, they 
cannot be true to a king. When the English colonies shall 
have made a conquest of New France, they will speedily 
declare against their mother country. The commonwealth 
will once more contend for mastery with the crown. 
There will be war, and France will then take her revenge. 
Every enemy of England will join her rebels to inflict upon 
her a mortal stab, and tear from her the colonies which 
make her so great and powerful.” 

‘‘Far Dieu ! you speak like a prophet, Herr Kalm ! ” ex- 
claimed de Vaudreuil, slapping his thigh, ‘‘ that would be 
a revenge sweet as our conquest would be bitter. We are 
not ignorant in New France of the secret machinations of 
the disaffected republicans of New England ; they have 
made overtures to us in times past to aid them, but we 
would not countenance them, for we knew that in reality they 
were the bitterest enemies of our king and of our church.” 

“ They will first uproot your king with the help of Eng- 
land, and then overturn their own in the New World by the 
help of Erance. The war will be long and bloody, and en- 
mities will be raised outlasting a hundred years,” replied 
Kalm quietly, but his words had force in them. 

“ By St. Michael ! your words have the twang of truth, 
Herr Kalm,” interrupted La Come St. Luc, “ but France, 
if she be true to herself and to us, will never lose her do- 
minion in the New World through the enmity of the English 
colonies.” 

‘‘ May it be so, Chevalier ! ” replied the Swede, refilling 
his pipe. ‘‘ The grace and polish of France are needed in 
the civilization of ‘this great continent by the side of the 
rough energies of England. Happy the State which can 
unite them both ! Such a one I see quickening in the 
womb of the future.” 


27 


4i8 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


“Tell me what 5^ou see, Kalm,’’ interrupted the Gov- 
ernor ; “ We are all philosophers to-night. A man seems 
to approach nearest the divine life when he tries to live it, 
and he feels his intellect most God-like when he clearly 
forecasts what is to come to pass. What see you quicken- 
ing in the womb of the future, Kalm ? ’’ 

“ I see a time when the present English colonies will 
rebel and cast off the English yoke, not because it is heavy, 
but because it is easy and light, and does not keep down 
the stiff neck of a puritan democracy. I see a time when 
gathering up their strength to declare their independence 
of England, they will hold out both hands to New France, 
then a province of England, for help. They will appeal to 
you. La Come St. Luc ! and to you, Rigaud de Vaudreuil ! 
and all New France, to join them in rebellion against Eng- 
land, and, mirabile dictu^ you shall treat their offers with 
disdain, and prefer to remain true to. your new king and 
your new allegiance, to which you shall have been given 
up by France ! Nay, more, listen, Chevalier La Come, re- 
ject my vaticination if you will; should England, having be- 
come degenerate, abandon you in your extremity, as France 
is likely to do, the last gun fired in defence of her flag will 
be by the hand of a French Canadian.’’ 

“By all the saints in Paradise ! ” exclaimed La Come 
St. Luc,— “And by all the devils in hell ! ” ejaculated Ri- 
gaud de Vaudreuil, flaming up like a volcano, “stop your 
vaticinations, Herr Kalm ! Cassandra never predicted 
such things to Troy as you do to New France. What you 
say is simply impossible ! ” 

“ Impossible or no, it is what I see in the not distant 
future,” answered Kalm, coolly. 

“ The only thing I will admit,” said La Come, “ is the 
certainty that come wLat may, loyal and Catholic New 
France will never join hands with the heretical Puritans of 
New England.” 

“ If we love old England little, we love New England 
still less,” replied La Come. “ We should assuredly never 
take part with the latter against the former. But we shall 
never forsake France, never ! ” 

“But you may be cast off, La Come !' France may part 
with you for a mess of pottage, and buy peace with Eng- 
land by your sacrifice.” 

“France! Chivalrous France will die in her harness 


OLYMriC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


419 

first ! ’’ exclaimed La Come, with all the emphasis of in- 
credulity. 

“ But France, ruled not by chivalry but by courtezans ; 
by money, not by honor — I will not pursue the black thought, 
Chevalier La Come ; France, not chivalrous, may do it. I 
say no more ; forgive me ! continued the philosopher, 
offering his hand to La Come. “ I am only a student of 
man and nature, a dreamer, for the most part, who ought to 
keep his visions to himself. The Count has said that in- 
tellect is most God-like when it clearly apprehends the 
future. It may be so, but it does not prevent the torment 
which accompanies like a curse every forecast of misfor- 
tune.’’ 

“ A truce now to politics,” exclaimed the Governor. 

Sufficient for the day is the evil of it. We will not in- 
crease our miseries by adding to the present the burden of 
the future. Herr Kahn represents old Upsala, and we will 
drink a health, gentlemen, a Swedish skdl, to his honor. 
Let us wash our brains clear of politics, and garnish our 
upper rooms for guests of a pleasanter sort.” 

The cups were again replenished, and, the Count setting 
the example, all rose and with enthusiastic energy drank 
a skdl to the health of their Swedish guest. 

The Count leaned back in his chair as if recalling to 
mind some memories of long ago. ‘‘ Six lustrums,” said 
he, ‘‘ thirty years of manhood have begun to whiten your 
locks and mine, Kalm ! since we finished our botanical 
studies at Upsal under a youth much younger than our- 
selves, but even then the wonder and admiration of the 
University, as he has since become of the world. Linnaeus 
was still a student of Olaf Celsius and Gammal Rod- 
beck, when he opened the treasure house of nature to 
scholars and professors alike. Long may he wear the 
crown of Philosophy which the world has deservedly placed 
upon his head 1 ” 

“ Linnaeus would not willingly hear that. Count,” re- 
plied Kalm, “ he is simple as he is great, and like Newton, 
thinks he has only gathered a few pebbles on the shore of 
the vast ocean of truth which still lies unexplored before 
him.” 

“ No ! he would not willingly hear it, Kalm, I know,” 
said the Governor, but we should be ungrateful not to 
say it ! What glorious times were those, when our onlv 


420 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


care was to learn what such men taught us ; when Gammal 
Rodbeck put us through the same regime and courses 
which he never wearied of telling us he had prescribed for 
his brave pupil, Charles XII.” 

Yes ! it quieted our grumbling at short commons, dur- 
ing the dearth ! ” replied Kahn, laughing at the reminder, 
“ Our groats tasted all the sweeter when we believed they 
had formed the bone and sinew of the arm which conquer- 
ed at Pultov/a.” 

The Governor plunged into a stream of reminiscences ; 
‘‘ Our classmates are now like ourselves, Kalm,” said he, 
“ grey headed and haply wise in the discovery that there 
is nothing new under the sun, and that all is vanity ! 
Where is Crusenstolpe } ” 

“ Living in his ancestral Chateau in Wermland, hunting 
stags, cultivating barley, and rearing a race of young Swedes 
to bear his name and serve their King and country.” 

‘‘ And Engelshem ? ” continued the Governor. 

“ In the army, a stalwart Finland Cuirassier,” replied 
Kalm. 

‘‘ A brave fellow, I warrant him ! ” observed the Gov- 
ernor, and Stroembom, our Waterbull, where is he ? ” 

“ In the navy, guarding the skerries of the Baltic coast.” 

And Sternberg ? ” pursued the Governor with the eager- 
ness of a school girl asking after her classmates. 

“ Councillor of State at the court of King Frederick, 
as he was at that of Queen Ulrica,” was the reply; “ I am 
at Abo, a humble professor of philosophy ; and Marken- 
shiold is preaching patriotism and religion to the Dalcar- 
lians. A needless labor ! but the Dalkarls like to be told 
they have done their whole duty to God and the King ! 
and they don’t think much of an orator who does not tell 
them so ! ” 

‘‘There was one more of our class, Kalm, that wonder- 
ful youth Swedenborg, where is he ? ” continued the Gov- 
ernor. 

“Ah! he is at Stockholm in the body, but as to his 
spirit in all the seven heavens,” replied Kalm, hardly ex- 
plicit enough in his answer. 

“ What mean you, Kalm ? He was the brightest 
genius of the University I ” observed the Governor, his 
curiosity quite piqued. 

“ And is still,” replied Kalm, emphatically. “ Few can 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC, 


421 


follow to the heights where soars the spirit of Swedenborg. 
After exhausting the philosophy of earth, he is now explor- 
ing that of heaven and hell He is not like Dante led by 
the eidolon of a Virgil or a Beatrice through scenes of in- 
tensest imagery, but in visions of divine permission, sees 
and converses with angels and spirits in their abodes of 
happiness or miseiy.” 

“You surprise me, Kalm! young Swedenborg was the 
deepest mathematician and the closest observer of nature in 
our class,’’ replied the Governor. “ Olaf Celsius called him 
preeminently “ the philosopher,” and he merited the desig- 
nation ! He was anything but a wild enthusiast.” 

“ And is so yet. But you know. Count, that under our 
northern ice and snow smoulder hidden fires which break 
forth sometimes, to illuminate, sometimes to devastate the 
world.” 

“ Aye, Kalm ! replied the Governor with a look of 
frank assent, “ I there recognize your Swedish genius ! It 
is bright and cold as a winter’s sun to illuminate the fields 
of science, but filled with irresistible impulses of a Berser- 
kir to lift the veil and look at things never seen before by 
mortal man ! A genius speculative and profound, but 
marbled with deep veins of mysticism, primordial like the 
spirit of the Edda and of the race, of Odin! In strange 
ways the genius of the North reveals itself now and again, 
to the world’s wonder and admiration.” 

“ True, Count 1 and our Swedish genius never revealed 
itself more markedly than in the soul of Swedenborg. There 
is no height of philosophy he has not scaled, no depth of 
science which he has not sounded. His bold speculations 
are carried on with such a force of reasoning that a man can 
no more escape from its power than he could get out of the 
maelstrom if he once trusts himself to its sweep and drift.” 

“ And yet I do wonder, Kalm 1 that so crystal clear an 
intellect as Swedenborg’s should turn towards mysticism 
in the face of modern philosophy and modern science 
which no one comprehended better than himself ! ” 

F(rrtasse et propter hocP replied the philosopher, “but 
I am unequal to judge as yet our old fellow-student. He 
has got beyond me ; I feel that clearly.” 

“ When did you see him, Kalm ? ” asked the Governor, 
conjuring up to his mind’s eye, the handsome grave youth 
of his early acquaintance. 


422 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


“ Just before I left Stockholm, on my present voyage,” 
said Kalin. “ He was in his favorite summer house in the 
orchard behind his residence in the Hornsgata. You know 
the place. Count. It is there the Heavens are opened to 
him, and there he writes the wonders of the Arcana Celestia 
which he will one day deliver to the world.” 

‘‘ You surprise me, Kalm ! I could not have conjectured 
he was writing on those topics ! He has left Philosophy, 
then, and struck out a new path in science and theology ? ” 

The Governor became intensely interested in the idea 
of the possible development or rather revelation of new 
truths, and of a new departure in the domains of science 
and theology. 

He has struck out a new path in both. Count. 
‘‘ But it is not so much the new as the rediscovery of the 
old ! the rejoining of the broken links of correspondence 
in the golden chain which once united man and nature 
with the spiritual world.” 

“ You believe in it, Kalm ! You were always taken by 
that Platonic fancy of a correspondence as of soul and 
body between things of earth with the Divine ideas in 
which they originate ! ” 

‘‘ Nay, as I said, I know not what to believe about it yet,” 
replied Kalm ; ‘‘ Swedenborg is the soul of candor, and sin- 
cere as he is pious, humble and enlightened. He told me 
wonderful things, as a brother and a philosopher who has 
been permitted to look at creation not as men see it from 
without, but as angels may be supposed to regard it from 
within outwards. He has opened the flood-gates of an 
entire new philosophy of spirit and matter, that may one 
day cover all our present systems, as the waters of a 
fruitful irrigation, not as a destroying deluge, however.” 

“ Well Kalm, he was a noble youth, and if he has gone 
mad through excess of wisdom, few men have had the 
same excuse ! As for me I study philosophy in visible 
forms, a stone, a plant, a drop of water, a living organism 
of whatever kind. The three kingdoms of nature are my 
book, and reason is its commentary. I look no farther ! 
Theology I love, but leave that to its divinely appointed 
teacher. Credo in Sanciam Excelsia77i Catholicam I As my 
fathers before me believed, I also hope to be saved in that 
faith, as I trust it has saved them.” I seek not to recon- 
cile religion and science as you do, Kalm ! ” 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


423 


The count, as he said this, glanced at the Bishop, who 
looked approvingly at him. Bishop Pontbriand made 
small allowance for the aberrations of genius. The path of 
life was in his view so plain that a wayfarer, though a fool, 
need not stumble over any rocks of philosophy, for none 
were to be found in it 

No wise man,’’ said the Bishop, “tries to judge God ! 
we take him as he has revealed himself, and can know 
with certainty no further. We cannot judge even men 
justly, let alone the things of creation which are left to be 
named by us as they were named by Adam, who gave 
all things their names just as he understood their nature 
and learned their qualities ; but it is only the earthy, not 
the Divine ideas they express which science interprets.” 

“ I bow with deference to the good Bishop,” remarked 
Kalm. “ We differ in signs and tokens only. The sea 
has many waves upon its surface, but in its depths it is all 
one abiding peace and uniformity. But you know. Bishop, 
that in Sweden we question the Sphinx as deeply as she 
questions us. We take nothing for granted and acknowl- 
edge no authority but divine truth expounded by reason. 
We ask what man is made for ? Whence he comes and 
whither he goes ? We lift the stones of science one by 
one ; we see what they rest upon and get, if we can, at the 
very foundations of things, questioning even God himself, 
whom we study in his works as well as in his word.” 

“ But our old fellow-student at Stockholm,” replied 
the Count, “ is he establishing a new faith, a new religion, 
a new philosophy, Kalm ? 

“Far from it! He is only kneading into the world’s 
effete beliefs a leaven of new principles which will in time, 
in a century or two, or three, perhaps, bring science and 
theology into perfect harmony and accord with each other. 

“ What would Diderot and Voltaire say to this?” re- 
marked the Count ; “ but I say with the Athenians, we will 
hear thee again on this matter, Kalm.” 

“ Hark 1 ” exclaimed the Bishop, lifting his hand, “ the 
Angelas is ringing from tower and belfry, and thousands 
of knees are bending with the simplicity of little children 
in prayer without one thought of theology or philosophy. 
Every prayer rising from a sincere heart, asking pardon 
for the past and grace for the future, is heard by our Father 
in heaven, think you not it is so, Herr Kalm ? ” 


424 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


It is doubtless so, and I thank God it is so, my Lord 
Bishop,’’ replied the philosopher. “ Salvation is by the 
grace of God, a truth rarely apprehended, and never 
comprehended but by those who receive it like little chil- 
dren.” 

‘‘ May w^e receive it so ! ” replied the Bishop. 

A few moments were passed by the gentlemen at table 
in reciting silently the customary invocation during the 
ringing of the Angelus. When it was over, the company 
resettled themselves at the table, the cups were again re- 
plenished. 

The governor was warned by an ill-suppressed yawn 
from Rigaud de Vaudreuil, that the conversation on his 
old classmates at Upsal had been void of interest to the 
old soldier, who hated philosophers as a brood of scoffing 
skeptics, who were pulling down religion and would one 
day pull down the king and all France together. 

The silvery smoke rose again in thin clouds to the 
ceiling, and the conversation shifted to other topics, by 
chance in appearance, but really by a slight and unobserved 
artifice of the Count, who kindly led it to a subject in which 
Rigaud would shine. 

There is some topic upon which every one is able to 
descant, and feel his strength. It is a pleasure to watch a 
taciturn man get into the saddle and rattle away in a dust 
of conversation when he knows the road and has no fear 
of a dismount. 

Rigaud de Vaudreuil was taciturn as an Indian, but 
seated in his war saddle he let the world see he could ride 
and also talk. His friends loved him for his honesty and 
his modesty. Nothing was more delightful than to draw out 
Rigaud de Vaudreuil on military topics, which few could 
talk better about than he, and none had illustrated by braver 
deeds. 

He grew eloquent to-night telling what had been done 
by the king’s troops and loyal Indians in defense of the 
colony, and what remained unaccomplished through the 
remissness of the court and the division of authority in 
New France, where the Governor controlled the campaign, 
the Commander in Chief led the army, and the Intendant 
held the sinews of war. The king expects victories,” 
said he, “ and at ten prices of our blood, we gain them 
for him ! But the king’s courtiers, the king’s mistresses, 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


425 


and all the crowd of sycophants who surround the throne, 
demand lavdess tribute of the remnant of our wealth. New 
France in the hands of Bigot is wrung of the last drop of 
its blood and the last doit of its treasure. The pay of our 
soldiers is withheld, as in Acadia, where our victorious 
troops had to pillage their own countrymen for bread. Was 
it not so, La Come } ” added he, turning to his old friend 
and comrade. 

The smoke was rising thick and ominous as from a fur- 
nace above the head of La Come St. Luc. He took his 
pipe from his lips and snapping it in two, replied, It is 
too true, Rigaud ! New France is doomed to fall like 
Acadia, and will be broken like that, unless a new fire of 
patriotism be kindled in French hearts at home ; unless the 
nation be governed by statesmen and on principles of honor 
and duty, not by trulls, spendthrifts and philosophs ! ” 
‘‘You are a historian, Herr Kalm,” continued La Come, 
“I want you to write this in your book, that if New France 
be ever lost, its fall will be due neither to the strength of 
the English, nor to the want of patriotism in our people, 
but because of the cowardice of wealth, the decay of loyalty, 
the loss of the sentiment of national pride and greatness 
in the mother country. If France lose her empire in 
America, it will be because she has not had spirit to keep 
what her sons so bravely won. When a nation once prefers its 
money to its blood, its peace to its honor, its doom is sealed ! 
It will ere long have neither blood nor money nor honor to 
offer for its miserable existence. The best of its life-blood 
will go off to other lands, its money will be extorted from 
it in tribute to nations daring enough to demand it, and 
its honor will be sunk forever in the ocean of national 
degradation ! ’’ 

La Come St. Luc in these few words reflected the sen- 
timents of nearly every man of intelligence in the colony. 
They felt themselves half abandoned and wholly disregarded 
by the mother country, whose policy the shrewdest of them 
began to see was influenced by the anti-colonial teachings 
of Voltaire, who afterwards kindled bonfires to celebrate 
the defeat of Montcalm and the loss of her greatest colony. 

Strange to say, after the lapse of more than a century, 
a race of Englishmen has sprung up as the successors of 
the Encyclopedists of France, who argue to deaf ears, 
let us hope, that wealth is the only greatness of a nation. 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


426 

and that the way for England to keep great, is to, rid her 
self of her colonies, to alienate millions of her most loyal 
subjects, to break up the mightiest elements of national 
strength by dividing her empire and casting the fragments 
of it into the lap of her enemies. There are English Vob 
taires and Diderots who believe in national pusillanimity and 
teach it. They are like the man followed by wolves, who 
cast out of his sledge one child after another, in hopes of 
assuaging the hunger of his pursuers, and saving his own 
ignoble life at the expense of every feeling of duty and 
manhood to his children ! 

Voltaire and the philosophers set up a graven image of 
liberty which they called England, which true in itself was 
false in their conception of it, and degraded by the factious 
use they made of their ideal. Just so these English suc- 
cessors of Voltaire have set up a graven image which they 
call America, and grovel at its feet with a worship half of 
idolatry, half of fear, but wholly degenerate from the brave, 
independent and manly spirit of the English nation. 

The sad foreboding of colonists like La Come St. Luc 
did not prevent the desperate struggle that was made for 
the preservation of French dominion in the next war. Like 
brave and loyal men they did their duty to God and their 
country, preferring death and ruin in a lost cause to surren- 
dering the flag which was the symbol of their native land. 
The spirit if not the words of the old English loyalist was 
in them. 

“ For loyalty is still the same, 

Whether it win or lose the game. 

True as the dial to the sun, 

Although it be not shone upon.’^ 

New France, after gathering a harvest of glory, such as 
America had never seen reaped before, fell at last, through 
the neglect of her mother country. But she dragged down 
the nation in her fall, and France would now give the 
apple of her eye for the recovery, never to be, of the 
acres of snow,^’ which La Pompadour so scornfully aban- 
doned to the English. 

These considerations lay in the lap of the future, how- 
ever ; they troubled not the present time and company. 
The glasses were again replenished with wine, or watered, 
as the case might be, for the Count de la Galissoniere 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC, 


427 

and Herr Kalm kept Horatian time and measure, drinking 
only three cups to the Graces, while La Come St. Luc, 
and Rigaud de Vaudreuil drank nine full cups to the Muses, 
fearing not the enemy that steals away men’s brains. 
Their heads were helmeted with triple brass, and impene- 
trable to the heaviest blows of the thyrsus of Bacchus. 
They drank with impunity, as if garlanded with parsley ; 
and while commending the Bishop, who would drink 
naught save pure water, they rallied gayly Claude Beau- 
harnois, who would not drink at all. 

In the midst of a cheerful concert of merriment, the door 
of the cabinet opened, and the servant in waiting announced 
the entrance of Colonel Philibert. 

All rose to welcome him. Pierre looked anxious and 
somewhat discomposed, but the warm grasp of the hands 
of so many true friends made him glad for the moment. 

Why, Pierre !” exclaimed the Count, I hope no ill 
wind has blown you to the city so unexpectedly ! You are 
heartily welcome, however, and we will call every wind 
good that blows our friends back to us again.” 

It is a cursed wind that blows me back to-day,” 
replied Philibert, sitting down with an air of disquiet. 

Why, what is the matter, Pierre ? ” asked the Count. 

My honored Lady de Tilly and her lovely niece, are they 
well ? ” 

“ Well, your Excellency, but sorely troubled. The 
devil has tempted Le Gardeur again, and he has fallen. 
He is back to the city, wild as a savage and beyond all 
control.” 

Good God ! it will break his sister’s heart ! ” said the 
Governor, sympathizingly. “ That girl would give her life 
for her brother. I feel for her ; I feel for you, too, Pierre.” 
Philibert felt the tight clasp of the Governor’s hand as he 
said this. He understood well its meaning. ‘‘ And not 
less do I pity the unhappy youth who is the cause of such 
grief to his friends,” continued he. 

Yes, your Excellency, Le Gardeur is to be pitied as 
well as blamed. He has been tried and tempted beyond 
human strength. 

La Come St. Luc had risen, and was pacing the floor 
with impatient strides. Pierre Philibert ! ” exclaimed he, 
‘‘ where is the poor lad ? He must be sought for and saved 
yet. What demons have assailed him now ? Was it the 


428 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


serpent ot strong drink, that bites men mad, or the legion 
of fiends that rattle the dice box in their ears ? Or was it 
the last temptation — which never fails when all else has 
been tried in vain — a woman ? ’’ 

‘‘ It was all three combined. The Chevalier de Pean 
visited Tilly on business of the Intendant, in reality, I sus- 
pect, to open a communication with Le Gardeur, for he 
brought him a message from a lady, you wot of, which 
drove him wild with excitement. A hundred men 
could not have restrained Le Gardeur after that. He 
became infatuated with De Pean, and drank and gambled 
all night and all day with him at the village inn, threaten- 
ing annihilation to all who interfered with him. To-day 
he suddenly left Tilly, and has come with De Pean to 
the city.” 

“ De Pean ! ” exclaimed La Come, “ the spotted snake ! 
A fit tool for the Intendant’s lies and villainy ! I am con- 
vinced he went not on his own errand to Tilly. Bigot is at 
the bottom of this foul conspiracy to ruin the noblest lad 
in the colony. 

“ It may be,” replied Philibert, ‘‘ but the Intendant 
alone would have had no power to lure him back. It was 
the message of that artful syren which has drawn Le 
Gardeur de Repentigny again into the whirlpool of de- 
struction.” 

‘‘ Aye, but Bigot set her on him, like a retriever, to 
bring back the game ! ” replied La Come, fully convinced of 
the truth of his opinion. 

‘Tt may be,” answered Philibert; ‘‘but my impression 
is that she has influenced the Intendant, rather than he her, 
in this matter.” 

The Bishop listened with warm interest to the account 
of Philibert. He looked a gentle reproof, but did not utter 
it, at La Come St. Luc, and Philibert, for their outspoken 
denunciation of the Intendant. He knew — none knew 
better — how deserved it was ; but his ecclesiastical rank 
placed him at the apex of all parties in the colony, and 
taught him prudence in expressing or hearing opinions of 
the King’s representatives in the colony. 

“ But what have you done, Pierre Philibert ? ” asked 
the Bishop, “ since your arrival ; have you seen Le Gar- 
deur } ” 

“ No, my Lord ; I followed him and the Chevalier to 


OLYMPIC CHARIOTS, ETC. 


429 

the city. ' They have gone to the Palace, whither I went, 
and got admittance to the cabinet of the Intendant. He 
received me in his politest and blandest manner. I asked 
an interview with Le Gardeur. Bigot told me that my 
friend unfortunately at that moment was unfit to be seen, 
and had refused himself to all his city friends. I partly 
believed him, for I heard the voice of Le Gardeur in a 
distant room, amid a babble of tongues and the rattle of 
dice. I sent him a card with a few kind words, and re- 
ceived it back with an insult — deep and damning — scrawled 
upon it. It was not written, however, in the hand of Le 
Gardeur, although signed by his name. Read that, your 
Excellency,” said he, throwing a card to the Count. I 
will not repeat the foul expressions it contains. Tell Pierre 
Philibert what he should do to save his honor and save his 
friend. Poor, wild, infatuated Le Gardeur never wrote 
that — never ! They have made him sign his name to he 
knew not what.” 

And, by St. Martin ! ” exclaimed La Come, who 
looked at the card, “ some of them shall bite dust for that ! 
As for Le Gardeur, poor boy, overlook his fault — pity him, 
forgive him. He is not so much to blame, Pierre, as those 
plundering thieves of the Friponne, who shall find that La 
Come St. Luc’s sword is longer by half an ell than is good 
for some of their stomachs ! ” 

‘‘ Forbear, dear friends,” said the Bishop. ‘‘It is not 
the way of Christians to talk thus.” 

“ But it is the way of gentlemen ! ” replied La Come, 
impatiently, “ and I always hold that a true gentleman is a 
true Christian. But you do your duty, my Lord Bishop, in 
reproving us, and I honor you for it, although I may not 
jDromise obedience. David fought a duel with Goliah, and 
was honored by God and man for it, was he not ? ” 

“ But he fought it not in his own quarrel. La Corne,’^ 
replied the Bishop gently, “ Goliah had defied the armies 
of the living God and David fought for his king, not for 
himself.” 

Confiteor ! my lord Bishop, but the logic of the heart 
is often truer than the logic of the head, and the sword 
has no raison d'etre, except in purging the world of 
scoundrels.” 

“ I will go home now, I will see your Excellency again 
on this matter,” said Pierre, rising to depart. 


430 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“Do, Pierre! my utmost services are at your com- 
mand/’ said the Governor, as the guests all rose too. It was 
very late. 

The hour of departure had arrived, the company all 
rose and, courteously bidding their host good night, pro- 
ceeded to their several homes, leaving him alone with his 
friend Kalm. 

They two at once passed into a little museum of 
minerals, plants, birds and animals, where they sat down, 
eager as two boy students. The world, its battles and its 
politics were utterly forgotten, as they conversed far into 
the night and examined with the delight of new discoverers, 
the beauty and varietv of nature’s forms that exist in the 
New World. 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE COUTUME DE PARIS. 

The Chevalier De Pean had been but. too successful 
in his errand of mischief to the Manor House of Tilly. 

A few days had sufficed for this accomplished 
ambassador of Bigot to tempt Le Gardeur to his ruin, and 
to triumph in his fall. 

Upon his arrival at the Seigneurie, De Pean had chosen 
to take up his quarters at the village inn, in preference to 
accepting the proffered hospitality of the Lady de Tilly, 
whom however he had frequently to see, having been 
.craftily commissioned by Bigot with the settlement of 
some important matters of business relating to her 
Seigneurie, as a pretext to visit the Manor House and linger 
in the village long enough to renew his old familiarity 
with Le Gardeur. 

The visits of De Pean to the Manor House were politely 
but not cordially received. It was only by reason of the 
business he came upon that he was received at all. Never- 
theless he paid his court to the ladies of the manor, as a 
gentleman anxious to remove their prejudices and win 
their good opinion. 

He once and but once, essayed to approach Amelie 


THE COUTUMR DE PARIS. 


431 


with gallantry, a hair breadth only beyond the rigid 
boundary line of ordinary politeness, when he received a 
repulse so quick, so unspoken and invisible that he 
could not tell in what it consisted, yet he felt it like a sud- 
den paralysis of his powers of pleasing. He cared not 
again to encounter the quick glance of contempt and 
aversionj which for an instant flashed in the eyes of 
Amelie, when she caught the drift of his untimely admira- 
tion. 

A woman is never so Rhadamanthean in her justice, 
and so quick in her execution of it, as when she is proud 
and happy in her love for another man. She is then 
indignant at every suggestion implying any doubt of the 
strength, purity, and absoluteness of her devotion. 

De Pean ground his teeth in silent wrath at this quiet 
but unequivocal repulse, and vowed a bitter vow that 
Amelie should ere long repent in sackcloth and ashes for 
the wound inflicted upon his vanity and still more upon 
his cupidity. 

One of the day dreams of his fancy was broken never 
to return. The immense fortune and high rank of the 
young Chatelaine de Repentigny had excited the cupidity 
of De Pean for some time, and although the voluptuous 
beauty of Angelique fastened his eyes, he would willingly 
have sacrificed her for the reversion of the lordships of 
Tilly and Repentigny. 

De Pean’s soul was too small to bear with equanimity 
the annihilation of his cherished hopes. As he looked 
down upon his white hands, his delicate feet and irre- 
proachable dress and manner, he seemed not to compre- 
hend that a true woman like Amelie cares nothing for 
these things in comparison with a manly nature that seeks 
a woman for her own sake by love, and in love, and not 
by the accessories of wealth and position. For such a one 
she would go barefoot if need were, while golden slippers 
would not tempt her to walk with the other’. 

Amelie’s beau ideal of manhood was embodied in 
Pierre Philibert, and the greatest king in Christendom 
would have wooed in vain at her feet, much less an empty 
pretender like the Chevalier de Pean. 

I would not have treated any gentleman so rudely,^’ 
said Amelie, in confidence to Heloise de Lotbiniere, when 
they had retired to the privacy of their bed-chamber. ‘‘No 


432 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


woman is justified in showing scorn of any man’s love, if 
it be honest and true; but the Chevalier de Pean is false to 
the heart’s core, and his presumption woke such an 
aversion in my heart, that I fear my eyes showed less 
than ordinary politeness to his unexpected advances.” 

“ You were too gentle, not too harsh, Amelie,” replied 
Heloise, with her arm round her friend. “ Had I been 
the object of his hateful addresses I should have repaid him 
in his own false coin. I would have led him on to the 
brink of the precipice of a confession and an offer, and 
then I would have dropped him as one drops a stone into 
the deep pool of the Chaudiere.” 

‘‘You were always more bold than I, Heloise, I could 
not do that for the world,” replied Amelie. “ I would not 
willingly offend even the Chevalier de Pean. Moreover I 
fear him, and ! need not tell you wliy, darling. That man 
posesses a power over my dear brother that makes me 
tremble, and in my anxiety for Le Gardeur, I may have 
lingered, as I did yesterday, too long in the parlor when 
in company with the Chevalier de Pean, who mistaking my 
motive, may have supposed that I hated not his pres'ence 
so much as I truly did ! ” 

“ Amelie, your fears are my own ! ” exclaimed Heloise, 
pressing Amelie to her side. “ I must, I will tell you ! O 
loved sister of mine ! let me call you so ! To you alone, I 
dare acknowledge my hopeless love for Le Gardeur, and 
my deep and abiding interest in his welfare.” 

“Nay, do not say hopeless, Heloise ! ” replied Amelie, 
kissing her fondly. ‘‘ Le Gardeur is not insensible to your 
beauty and goodness. He is too like myself not to love 
you.” 

“Alas! Amelie! I know it is all in vain. I have 
neither beauty nor other attractions in his eyes. He 
left me yesterday to converse with the Chevalier de Pean 
on the subject of Angelique des Meloises, and I saw b}^ 
the agitation of his manner, the flush upon his cheek, and 
the eagerness of his questioning, that he • cared more for 
Angelique, notwithstanding her reported engagement with 
the Intendant, than he did for a thousand Heloises de 
Lotbinieres ! ” 

The poor girl, overpowered by the recollection, hid hei 
face upon the shoulder of Amelie, and sobbed as if hei 
very heart were breaking ; as in truth it was. 


THE COUTUME DE PARIS. 


433 


Amelie, so happy and secure in her own affection, 
comforted Heloise with her tears and caresses, but it was 
only by picturing in her imagination, her own state, should 
she be so hapless as to lose the love of Pierre Philibert, 
that she could realize the depth of misery and abandon- 
ment which filled the bosom of her fair companion. 

She was moreover struck to the heart by the words of 
Heloise, regarding the eagerness of her brother to get 
word of Angelique. “ The Chevalier de Pean might have 
brought a message, perhaps a love token from Angelique 
to Le Gardeur, to draw him back to the city,’’ thought she. 
If so, she felt instinctively that all their efforts to redeem 
him would be in vain, and that neither sister’s love, nor 
Pierre’s remonstrances would avail to prevent his return. 
He was the slave of the lamp, and Angelique its posses- 
sor. 

“ Heaven forbid ! Heloise,” she said faintly, Le 
Gardeur is lost if he return to the city now ! Twice lost ! 
lost as a gentleman, lost as the lover of a woman who 
cares for him only as a pastime, and as a foil to her 
ambitious designs upon the Intehdant ! Poor Le Gardeur ! 
what happiness might not be his, in the love of a woman, 
noble minded as himself ! What happiness were he yours, 
O darling Heloise ! ” She kissed her pallid cheeks, wet 
with tears, which lay by hers on the same pillow, and both 
remained silently brooding over the thoughts which spring 
from love and sorrow. 

“ Happiness can never be mine, Amdlie,” said Heloise, 
after a lapse of several minutes. “ I have long feared it, 
now I know it. Le Gardeur loves Angelique ; he is wholly 
hers and not one little corner -of his heart is left for poor 
Heloise to nestle in ! I did not ask much, Amelie, but I 
have not retained the little interest I believed was once 
mine ! He has thrown the whole treasure of his life at her 
feet. After playing with it, she will spurn it for a more 
ambitious alliance ! O ! Amelie ! ” exclaimed she with 
vivacity, “ I could be wicked ! Heaven forgive me ! I could 
be cruel and without pity, to save Le Gardeur from the 
wiles of such a woman ! ” 

The night was a stormy one, the east wind which had 
lain in a dead lull through the early hours of the evening 
rose in all its strength at the turn of the tide. It came 
bounding like the distant thud of a cannon. It roared and 

28 


434 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


rattled against the windows and casements of the Manor 
House, sounding a deep bass in the long chimneys 
and howling like souls in torment, amid the distant 
woods. 

The rain swept down in torrents as if the windows of 
heaven were opened to wash away the world’s defilements. 
The stout walls of the Manor House were immovable as 
rocks, but the wind and the rain and the noise of the storm 
struck an awe into the two girls. They crept closer together 
in their bed ; they dared not separate for the night. The 
storm seemed too much the reflex of the agitation of their 
own minds, and they lay clasped in each others arms 
mingling their tears and prayers for Le Gardeur until the 
gray dawn looked over the eastern hill and they slept. 

The Chevalier de Pean was faithful to the mission 
upon which he had been dispatched to Tilly. He disliked 
intensely the return of Le Gardeur to renew his old ties 
with Angelique. But it was his fate, his cursed crook, he 
called it, ever to be overborne by some woman or other, 
and he'resolved that Le Gardeur should pay for it with his 
money and be so flooded by wine and debauchery that 
Angelique herself would repent that she had ever invited 
his return. 

That she would not marry Le Gardeur was plain enough 
to De Pean who knew her ambitious views regarding the 
Intendant, and that the Intendant would not marry her 
was equally a certainty to him, although it did not prc vent 
De Pean’s entertaining an intense jealousy of Bigot. 

Despite discouraging prospects, he found a consolation 
in the reflection that failing his own vain efforts to please 
Amelie de Repentigny for sake of her wealth ; the woman 
he most loved for sake of her beauty and spirit, would yet 
drop like a golden fleece into his arms, either through 
spite at her false lover or through love of himself. De 
Pean cared little which, for it was the person not the in- 
clination of Angelique, that carried away captive the ad- 
miration of the Chevalier De Pean. 

The better to accomplish his crafty design of abducting 
Le Gardeur, De Pean had taken up his lodging at the 
village inn. He knew that in the polite hospitalities of 
the Manor House he could find few opportunities to work 
upon the susceptible nature of Le Gardeur, that too many 
loving eyes would there watch over his safety, and that he 


THE COUrUME DE PARIS, 


435 


was himself suspected and his presence only tolerated on 
account of the business which had ostensibly brought him 
there. At the inn, he would be free to work out his 
schemes sure of success, if by any means and on any pre- 
tense he could draw Le Gardeur thither, and rouse into 
life and fury the sleeping serpents of his old propensities, 
the love of gaming, the love of wine, and the love of 
Angelique. 

Could Le Gardeur be persuaded to drink a full measure 
to the bright eyes of Angelique des Melojses, and could he 
when the fire was kindled be tempted once more to take 
in hand the box more fatal than that of Pandora, and place 
fortune on the turn of a die, De Pean knew well that no 
power on earth could stop the conflagration of every good 
resolution and every virtuous principle in his mind. Neither 
Aunt, nor Sister, nor Friends, could withhold him then ! 
He would return to the city, where the Grand Company had 
a use to make of him, which he would never understand 
until it was too late for aught but repentance. 

De Pean pondered long upon a .few words he had one 
day heard drop from the lips of Bigot, which meant more — 
much more than they seemed to imply, and they flitted 
long through his memory like bats in a room seeldng an 
outlet into the night ominous of some deed of darkness. 

De Pean imagined that he had found a way to revenge 
himself upon Le Gardeur and Amelie — each for thwarting 
him in a scheme of love or fortune. He brooded long and 
malignantly how to hatch the plot which he fancied was 
his own, but which had really been conceived in the deeper 
brain of Bigot, whose few seemingly harmless words had 
dropped into the ear of De Pean, casually as it were, but, 
which Bigot knew would take root and grow in the con- 
genial soul of his secretary and one day bring forth terri- 
ble fruit. 

The next day was wet and autumnal, with a sweeping 
east wind which blew raw and gustily over the dark grass 
and drooping trees that edged the muddy lane of the vil- 
lage of Tilly. 

The water courses were full and yellow with the wash- 
ing of frequent showers. The sky was dark — the heavily 
laden clouds scarcely rose above the level of the horizon. 
They trailed their ragged skirts of mist over the tree tops 
and hill-sides — while the river hardly visible in the fog 


THE CHIEN- D'OR. 


436 

mingled a hoarse roar of waves from its stony beach, with 
the continuous noise of the wind and the rain on shore. 

The grey church upon the point of Tilly was shrouded 
in still greyer mist. The sound of the vesper bell rung by 
the lonely Sexton was scarcely heard in the village, and 
few obeyed its summons that day; preferring a penance for 
not going to Church to the risk of a wet skin and drabbled 
garments. It was not easy in such weather to ascend the 
miry road up the steep hill worthy to be called the hill 
Difficulty which led from the low lying village to the Parish 
Church. 

The few houses in the village were very quiet, all the 
little world of life had taken refuge indoors, or under 
cover. The steaming cattle shivered together under sheds 
and in fence corners. The strutting poultry had long 
since drooped their wet feathers and perched disconsolate 
enough in barn and stable. Even the lately clamorous 
ducks and geese seemed to have had enough of it, and 
stood in one-legged quiet contemplation of the little pools 
of water foaming and bubbling about them, which would 
be pools of delight to them for many a day to come. 

The figure of a woman with a shawl or cloak thrown 
hastily over her head, tripping lightly through the mud as 
she hurried to or from a neighbor’s house, was the only 
sign of inhabitants about the village, except at the old- 
fashioned inn, with its low covered gallery and swinging 
sign of the Tilly Arms. 

There flitting round the door, or occasionally peering 
through the windows of the tap room with pipes in their 
mouths and perchance a tankard in their hands, were seen 
the elders of the village, boatmen, and habitafis, making 
use or -good excuse of a rainy day for a social gathering in 
the dry snug chimney corner of the Tilly Arms. 

In the warmest corner of all, his face aglow with fire — 
light and good liquor, sat Master Pothier dit Robin, with 
his gown tucked up to his waist as he toasted his legs and 
old gamashes in the genial warmth of a bright fire. 

Opposite him bursting with stories of the late riot in 
the city, and of the destruction of his fiddle by the Intend- 
ant, sat Jean La Marche, nursing a new violin on his lap 
tenderly as a ten days’ old baby, and taking the word out 
of every body’s mouth as was his custom, in his good- 
natured eagerness to have his say, whoever was speaking. 


THE COUTUME DE PARIS. 


437 


A feat rather difficult to-night, for Master Pothier was 
tremendous on a string of talk. His law phrases and dog 
Latin overrode the voluble recitals of Jean, who had 
his revenge, however, for when fairly out-talked and hard 
pressed by argument, he would take out his violin and, 
striking up a lively air; bring all the listeners to his side and 
force Master Pothier to a new trial. 

Half a dozen worthies of the village in red Breton caps 
were at once audience and chorus to Master Pothier and 
Jean La Marche ; they were all censitaires of the house of 
Tilly, proud of their lady, cheerful payers of her feudal 
dues, and equally fond of disputing them point by point, for 
the sake of a good wrangle, with their Lady’s steward, the 
grave and consequential Master Cote. 

The arrival of Master Pothier in the course of his 
rounds as a travelling Notary, was an event quite as in- 
teresting to the men, as the arrival of the cheerful old 
Recollets was to the women of the village of Tilly. 

Master Pothier with his budget of law papers, had hardly 
installed himself 'in his old seat in the chimney corner, be- 
fore the news of his arrival was flying round the seigneurie, 
and a dozen of would-be litigants, were drawing themselves 
up an inch taller, in the prospect of a good bout at cheap 
law with neighbors as fond of it as themselves. 

A year’s accumulation of petty quarrels and verbal 
contracts, waiting to be put in black and white as they 
expressed it, were ready for the manipulation of Master 
Pothier. Sick men had deferred dying until the travelling 
Notary came round to draw their wills. Impatient couples 
were not allowed by prudent parents to marry, no matter 
how high the torch of Cupid was flaring, until a proper con- 
tract on thick paper, with a good blotch of sealing wax 
upon it, had been duly executed under the notarial hand 
of Master Pothier. 

The old Notary knew well how to extract his fees from 
the close-fisted habitans., notwithstanding their, inveterate 
habit of driving hard bargains for their law as for any other 
commodity they needed. 

“ How much, Master Pothier, will you charge me for 
scribbling off an acte de damnatiofi ? ” asked Louis Du 
Sol. He meant to say an acte de donation., of, “ a reason- 
able pig, in return for the use of a little field down by the 
mill.” Master Pothier understood him all the same, and 


THE CHIEH D'OR. 


438 

probably thought there was usually not much difference in 
either the thing or the name. 

“ With a seal upon it, Master Louis ? ’’ asked Master 
Pothier with a very judicial air. 

“Yes, Master Pothier, with a seal upon it, all complete.’’ 

Master Pothier rubbed his wig for a minute, very grave- 
ly. “ It will cost you five livres to make a tight and sure 
acte de damnation^'' said he. “ A middling one with not 
more than two or three holes to creep out at, will cost you 
three livres, a very common one that will hold nothing and 
nobody, I will give you for a franc. So you take your 
choice, Master Louis ! ” The habitant thought the cheap 
and common one good enough to give away. At any rate, 
it left his hands as free as the other party’s to the contract, 
to raise a glorious cavil, and so lead to the luxury of a law- 
suit over the acte de da77ination. 

Conversation in the presence, of Master Pothier, ever 
took a litigious turn. His wallet smelled of law as natu- 
rally as a Doctor’s smells of drugs. 

The censitaires of Tilly were happy in their feudal re- 
lations with the noble Lady of the Manor, but true Nor- 
mans as they were, they loved to exercise their wits upon 
quibbles, and points of the coutuTnes of Paris and Rouen, 
which applied to their land tenures and other dealings with 
their Lady. 

They admitted cheerfully their obligations to pay cens 
and rentes^ some five farthings per arpent, for lands in the 
Lordship of Tilly, which the Lady of the Manor had as 
regularly returned to them, for several years past, on ac- 
count of the hard times in the colony ; but that did not 
prevent their envying the lot of the happier censitaires of 
Bribe, who, annually on their rent day, went in procession 
to the chateau of their Lord, with their largest wagon 
drawn by six horses superbly harnessed, conveying one 
pepper corn to their Lord as the full rent due for their 
lands, and who had to treat his loyal vassals with a great 
feast into the bargain ! ” 

The ba7iality of the old mill of Tilly which ground the 
corn of the Seigneurie for nothing, except a few handfuls 
out of each Mmot^ given as toll to the miller, was a stand- 
ing subject of controversy among the sharp wits of the 
village, as to whether the handfuls were single as some 
argued, or double as claimed by old Joachim the miller. 


THE COUTUME DE PARIS. 


439 


The Lady of the Manor kept down her stock of doves 
in the great colombiere, feeding them carefully at home to 
prevent their flying abroad to pick in the cornfields of the 
habitaiis^ but the number she 77tight keep and the number 
her censitaires might be required to feed, formed a problem 
in feudal arithmetic, that often filled the table top, and the 
inn door itself, with chalk marks of interminable calcula- 
tions equalled at last by the landlord’s score of mugs of 
cider drank to the health of the good Lady of the Manor, 
while they were disputing her rights. 

“ My Lady may, by the coutii77ie of Rouen ! ” exclaimed 
Master Pothier, “ build a colombiere that will feed all the 
Seigneury as well as eat it up. It is her right, and as our 
good Lady, she may exercise it if she will.” 

“ You may as well tell me Master Pothier!” replied 
Jean La Marche as the defender of popular rights, “that 
the D7‘oit de GreTiouillage is in the Manor of Tilly as it is 
in the Lordship of Marais Le Grand.” 

“ I do tell you so, Jean La Marche ! ” replied Master 
Pothier. “ It is inherent in all Norman fiefs 1 only there are 
no frog ponds at Tilly, else would the vassals be bound to 
beat them with long poles all the night preceding the 
marriage of their Lord, crying ; 

‘ Pa ! Pa ! rainotte, Pa ! 

Notre Seigneur dort, que Dieu ga 1 ' 

to enable their Lord to sleep soundly, and be strong and 
vigorous for the morrow.” 

“ Aye, that is a sensible custom ! one can sympathize 
with that 1 ” replied Jean. “ Were you ever married, Master 
Pothier ? ” 

“ I married ? Jean La Marche ! ” Master Pothier gave 
a scornful laugh. “ Ha, Ha ! The idea ! No, no ! I 
know too much law for that 1 What ? When there is not 
a seigneur in New France, but has the right of jamhage 
inherent in his Lordship by the ancient coutumes of Nor- 
mandy, and for aught I could plead in bar would exercise 
it in case Master Pothier took a wife ! No, Jean La 
Marche 1 you may marry and I shall be happy to write 
you a marriage contract as broad as your wedding sheet, 
but do not ask me to adorn my brows with even invisible 
antlers ! ” 


440 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ Aye, but they say our Seigneurs have lost the right 
of jambage. More the pity, say our penniless maids, who 
never married without a nice dower in the good old times,^’ 
replied Jean, looking round the company for support in 
his regret, 

“ Bah ! ” exclaimed Nicholas Houdin, a staring habi- 
tant. “ I have lived in Tilly three-score years, and I never 
heard that our noble Seigneurs had the right of jambage'^ 

“ It was the possibilities of the law. Master Houdin ! ” 
replied Pothier, — not its actuality — I referred to.” 

Nicholas Houdin, not comprehending the law Latin, as 
he regarded the reply of Master Pothier, said, “ Oh, yes ! ” 
and resumed his stare of wonder at the vast learning of 
the worthy notary'. 

“ Well, we need not mind about jambage in Tilly, where 
we are ruled by a lady, and not by a lord ! I drink her 
health before all the company,” exclaimed Jean La 
Marche, suiting the action to the word, and the word to 
the action, as well as if he had received advice from 
Hamlet. 

“ I join in the health of our noble lady, with all my 
heart ! ” replied Master Pothier ; “ but you do not catch 
me with that hook, Jean La Marche ! A lady may depute 
her right of jambage to her heir in the barony, as is proved 
by Arrets in the Court of Bourges. Respect the law, there- 
fore, Jean La Marche.” 

“ I do. Master Pothier ! and I want some of it for my 
self. You know my poor Fifine took a cold and died last 
winter. She has left a buxom sister in the flesh, whom I 
wish to marry. The Cure says : ‘ No ! ’ The woman says : 
‘ Oh ! ’ Now what says the law ? Is it permissible to marry 
your wife’s sister ? ” 

Master Pothier pricked up his ears like a war-horse at 
the sound of a trumpet. Here was a case to come down 
upon ! The rustics clustered round, for everybody in the 
village knew poor Jean’s wants and wishes. The men jeered 
him, the w^omen sympathized with him. Master Pothier 
put on his old cap a mortier, and cried out : ‘‘ Do you want 
to be hanged, Jean La Marche.^ Marry your wife’s sister, 
and you will be condemned to be trussed up, by all the 
laws of the Imperium ! ” 

“ What ! do you mean to say they will hang me. Master 
Pothier, if I marry my wife’s sister ? The sexton says it 


THE COUTUME DE PARIS. 


44T 


would be polygamy even in the churchyard for a man to 
have two wives lying there. Would it ? ’’ 

‘‘ Hang you ? yes ! and polygamy is a hanging matter, 
and your case for merely thinking of it is first cousin to 
the gallows ! 

“ I don’t believe it, Master Pothier ! Who are your au- 
thorities ? ” Jean had learned the names of sundry famous 
law Doctors from his frequent discussions with Master 
Pothier. 

“My authorities.^ Listen, Jean La Marche!’’ And 
Master Pothier launched into a musical descant of great 
authorities on the subject : 

“ ‘ Si vous conseilley nos Auteurs, 

Legislateurs et glossateurs ; 

Jason, Aliciat, Cujas, 

Ce grand homme si capable ! 

La polygamie est un cas, 

Est un cas pendable ! ’ 

“ If that will not hang you, Jean La Marche, you are not 
worth hanging, and that is my opinion as well as Moliere’s, 
for which I charge you a round of Norman cider for this 
fair company! ” 

The opinion of Master Pothier was received with tumul- 
tuous applause. Jean was overwhelmed, but in revenge 
swore he would sing his best song, the famous o\di Apologia 
du Cidre, a Norman ditty of the fourteenth century, which 
had been brought to the colony in the ships of Jacques 
Cartier. 

“ Now fill all your mugs,” cried he, “ and be in time 
with the chorus. I will prove to you that cider is better 
than law any day.” 

Jean twanged his fiddle, and handling his bow like a 
genuine virtuoso, began the jolly old ballad : 

De nous se rit le Fran9ois, 

Mais quoi qu’il en die, 

Le cidre de Normandie, 

Vaiit bien son vin quelquefois ! 

Coule a val ! et loge, loge ! 

II fait grand bien a la gorge ! 

Ta bonte, O cidre beau ! 

De te boire me convie, 

Mais pour le moins je te prie 


442 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


Ne me trouble le cerveaul 

Coule a val ! et loge, loge ! 

II fait grand bien a la gorge ! 

Voisin ne songe en proces ! 

Prends le bien qui se pfesente ! 

Mais, que Thomme se contente, 

II en a tou jours assez ! 

Coule a val et loge, loge ! 

II fait grand bien a la gorge ! 

The Apologie du Cidrewcis sung in Jean^s best timbre, 
and chorused con amore by the company with a rattling 
accompaniment of pewter mugs and hard knuckles rapping 
on the oak table. 

Master Pothier threw up his hands in ecstasy, repeated 
the chorus, and proposed a double round in honor of the 
Lady de Tilly and the fair young chatelaine. Mademoiselle 
Amelie. It was drank with enthusiasm. 

“ I want now,’' continued Master Pothier, to drink 
the health and happiness of the young Seigneur de Repen- 
tigny, and a long law-suit and a short purse to the censP 
taire who will not join in it.” 

“ Hush, Master Pothier ! Don’t name the young 
Seigneur, ” interjected Jean La Marche, he is in the 
parlor yonder playing dice and drinking hot wine, with the 
Chevalier De Pean and two other big dogs of the Fri- 
ponne.” 

The Chevalier de Pean ! The secretary of the Inten^ 
dant ! is he here ? ” asked Master Pothier, discreetly lower- 
ing his voice, ‘‘ what brings him to Tilly .? ” 

‘‘ Some devil’s business of the Friponne I warrant ! ” 
whispered Jean. ‘‘ I kept aloof for a week fearing he was 
making inquiries about the riot, but finding all right and 
being very thirsty, I could not stay away from the Tilly 
Arms any longer. Do you know the Chevalier de Pean, 
Master Pothier ? 

“ Know him ! I know every dog of high and low de- 
gree in the Capital.” 

“ He is a gay, lively fellow ! but he has. an eye to cheat 
man and woman or I am no judge ! What do you thinb 
Master Pothier ? ” asked Jean. 

‘‘ What do I think ? ” repeated Master Pothier, taking a 
serious pull at the tankard and slowly shaking his head as 
he echoed the question. ‘‘ I think he is worthy to be sec- 


A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT. 


443 


retary to Caius Verres himself.’^ Master Pothier had not 
quite lost the tincture of his humanities learned at the old 
school of Arles. 

“ Who is that, Master Pothier ? ’’ Jean had a prodigious 
respect for learning, and the more in proportion to the less 
he knew of it. 

“ Caius Verres ! ” replied Master Pothier, as cau- 
tious as a fox. “ He was a Roman and should be spoken 
of in the Roman tongue ; he was Intendant of Sicily pop- 
iilatco vexatce funditiis evarsceque Provincice / like this poor 
New-France of ours, and that is my opinion ! ’’ 

Honest Jean was perfectly content with Master Pothier’s 
explanation. It was Latin like what he heard at mass, and 
therefore to be taken on trust with implicit confidence. 
The rest of the company were of the same mind, for not 
one of them thought it necessary to ask Master Pothier 
for an interpretation of his learned opinion of the Intend- 
ant. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT. 

Master Pothier leaned back his head and twirled his 
thumbs for a few minutes without speaking or listening to 
the babble around him, which had now turned upon the 
war and the latest sweep of the royal commissaries for 
corn and cattle. “ Did you say, Jean La Marche,’’ said he, 
“ that Le Gardeur de Repentigny was playing dice and 
drinking hot wine with the Chevalier de Pean and two big 
dogs of the Friponne ? ” 

‘‘ I did. ” Jean spoke with a choking sensation. ‘‘ Our 
young Seigneur has broken out again wilder than ever and 
is neither to hold nor bind any longer ! ” 

“ Aye ! ” replied Master Pothier reflectively, “ the best 
bond I could draw would not bind him more than a spider’s 
thread ! They are stiff necked as bulls, these De Repen- 
tignys, and will bear no yoke but what they put on of 
themselves ! Poor lad ! Do they know at the Manor 
House he is here drinking and dicing with the Chevalier de 
Pean ? ” 


444 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


No ! Else all the rain in heaven would not have pre- 
vented his being looked after by Mademoiselle Amelie 
and My Lady,” answered Jean. ‘‘ His friend Pierre Phili- 
bert who is now a great officer of the King, went last 
night to Batiscan on some matter of the army, as his 
groom told me. Had he been here, Le Gardeur would not 
have spent the day at the Tilly Arms as we poor habitans 
do when it is washing day at home.” 

Pierre Philibert ! ” Master Pothier rubbed his hands 
at this reminder, ‘‘ I remember him Jean ! A hero like St. 
Denis ! It was he who walked into the chtoau of the 
Intendant and brought off young De Repentigny as a cat 
does her kitten.” 

What, in his mouth. Master Pothier ? ” 

‘‘ None of your quips, Jean, keep cool ! ” Master PothiePs 
own face grew red. “ Never ring the coin that is a gift, and 
do not stretch my comparisons like your own wit, to a bare 
thread. If I had said in his mouth, what then ? It was by 
word of mouth I warrant you that he carried him away 
from Beaumanoir. Pit)'", he is not here to take him away 
from the Tilly Arms ! ” ^ 

Master Pothier rose and looked through the window 
against which the rain was beating furiously. The gloom 
of approaching night began to mingle distant objects 
together. But on the edge of the hill, cutting the grey sky, 
the tall pines stood out distinctly, and bowed their tops in 
the wind, which was scattering the mist before sunset, with 
promise, perhaps, of a fair day for to-morrow. But as yet 
there was no lull in the driving rain. The eye of Master 
Pothier traced with a dubious glance the steep road lead- 
ing up the hill. It was lost in darkness before it reached 
the summit. 

Master Pothier reflected on the long league to the 
Manor House behind the hill. Then upon the rain and 
the coming darkness, and turning to the glowing fire, the 
dry chimney corner, th6 good liquor and the good company, 
he resumed his seat stolidly, refilled his pipe and began 
doggedly to smoke as if he did not mean to stir out of his 
warm corner any more that night. 

But it was no use. Master Pothier was very fidgety. 
The sound of voices, the rattle and clash of the dice box 
in the distant parlor reached his ear amidst the laughter 
and gabble of the common room. He tried the tankard 


A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT. 


445 


and drank deep draughts to compose his mind, and fancy- 
ing he was drowsy, drank again to rouse himself up and 
keep awake. 

“ A man may as well walk on it as sit on it ! ’’ said he. 
“ The cause is decided against me, and I must pay the costs ! 
Jean La Marche, will you go with me to the Manor House 
to night ? ’’ 

“To the Manor House ? ’’ replied Jean very thickly, for 
he, too, had been trying to float his thoughts by giving them 
plenty of liquor to swim in. “ The way is as long as a 
Christmas Carol, and the rain will spoil my fiddle strings ; 
but I will not refuse you. Master Pothier ! these dogs of 
the Friponne are barking louder and louder. They will 
devour Le Gardeur before morning ! I will go with you, give 
me your hand, old Robin ! But I find it hard to rise with a 
heavy seat like this under me. 

With a mutual pull. Master Pothier and Jean taking 
hold of hands managed to get upon their legs, and with 
some lurching and unsteady squaring, they stretched them- 
selves into their great coats. With a jug of Santa Cruz rum 
as sea stores, the two good-natured fellows more willing 
than capable, set out arm in arm on a tramp through the 
rain and darkness to the Manor House. 

Sooth to say they never reached it ! for stopping to re- 
fresh themselves by the wayside in a hut tenanted by an old 
boon companion, they were welcomed with such empresse- 
ment and hospitality that once seated by his fire Master 
Pothier took out his jug, and Jean La Marche his violin 
for a tune to cheer them on their tramp. 

Minutes ran on to hours, hours stretched to the third 
watch. The jug was exhausted, Jean’s elbows flagged. 
The long ballad of the King’s son, with original variations, 
was never finished. They forgot their mission and drop- 
ped down one by one upon the hearth. The host and his 
guests all slept till day. 

When they woke up, the bright sun was shining, the 
storm was all gone. Master Pothier and Jean with some 
effort recollected how, why and when they had got to the 
hut of Roger Bontemps. A sense of honest shame crept 
over them. They were debating whether to go on to the 
Manor House, or to sneak back to the village, when a 
groom rode up who had been sent at dawn of day to the 
Tilly Arms, and was returning with the intelligence that 


THE CHIEN D’ OR. 


446 

Le Gardeur had embarked that morning in a canoe with 
the Chevalier de Pean and his companions, and gone to 
the city. 

The night had been a hard one in the little inn. The 
hahitans and fishermen reduced to comparative quiet 
by the departure of Master Pothier and Jean La Marche, 
with their money spent and credit difficult, left by ones 
and two’s to trudge or reel home as best they could. 
Some of them were suddenly sobered by the prospect of 
the lecture that they knew was simm.ering for them in the 
mind of the good wife, who with gathered brows was rock- 
ing herself on her stool before the dying fire nursing her 
wrath like a cross baby in her bosom, ready to throw it at 
the head of the good man as he came reeling into his cot- 
tage. 

In proportion as the common room of the inn grew 
quiet by the departure of its guests, the parlor occupied by 
the gentlemen became more noisy and distinct in its 
confusion. The song, the laugh, the jest, and jingle of 
glasses mingled with the perpetual rattle of dice or the 
thumps which accompanied the play of successful cards. 

Paul Gaillard, the host, a timid little fellow not used to 
such high imperious guests only ventured to look into the 
parlor when summoned for more wine. He was a born 
censitaire of the house of Tilly and felt shame and pity as he 
beheld the dishevelled figure of his young Seigneur shaking 
the dice box, and defying one and all to another cast, for 
love, liquor or whole handfuls of uncounted coin. 

Paul Gaillard had ventured once to whisper something 
to Le Gardeur about sending his Caleche to the Manor 
house, hoping that his youthful master would consent to be 
driven home. But his proposal was met by a wild laugh 
from La Gardeur and a good humored expulsion from the 
room. 

He dared not again interfere, but contented himself 
with waiting until break of day to send a message to the 
Lady de Tilly informing her of the sad plight of his young 
Master. 

De Pean with a great object in view had summoned Le 
Mercier and Emeric de Lantagnac from the city ; potent 
topers and hard players, to assist him in his desperate 
game for the soul, body and fortune of Le Gardeur de 
Repentigny. 


A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT. 


447 


They came willingly. The Intendant had laughingly 
wished them bon voyage! and a speedy return with his 
friend Le Gardeur, giving them no other intimation of 
his wishes, nor could they surmise that he had any other 
object in view than the pleasure of again meeting a pleasant 
companion of his table and a sharer of their pleasures. 

De Pean had no difficulty in enticing Le Gardeur down 
to the village inn where he had arranged that he should 
meet by mere accident as it were, his old city friends. 

The bold generous nature of Le Gardeur who neither 
suspected nor feared- any evil, greeted them with warmth. 
They were jovial fellows he knew, who would be affronted 
if he refused to drink a cup of wine with them. They 
talkecf of the gossip of the city, its coteries and pleasant 
scandals, and of the beauty and splendor of the Queen of 
society — Angelique des Meloises. 

Le Gardeur with a painful sense of his last interview 
with Angelique and never for a moment forgetting her reit- 
erated words : ‘‘ I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not 
mariy^ you,” kept silent whenever she was named, but 
talked with an air of cheerfulness on every other topic. 

His one glass of wine w^as soon followed by another. 
He was pressed with such cordiality that he could not 
refuse. The fire was rekindled, at first with a faint glow 
upon his cheek, and a sparkle in his eye ; but the table 
soon overflowed with wine, mirth and laughter. He drank 
without reflection and soon spoke with warmth and loose- 
ness from all restraint. 

De Pean, resolved to excite Le Gardeur to the utmost, 
would not cease alluding to Angelique. He recurred 
again and again to the splendor of her charms and the fascin- 
ation of her ways. He watched the effect of his speech 
upon the countenance of Le Gardeur, keenly observant of 
every expression of interest excited by the mention of her. 

‘‘ We will drink to her bright eyes,” exclaimed De Pean, 
filling his glass until it ran over, “ first in beauty and worthy 
to be first in place in New-France. Yea or Old France 
either ! and he is a heathen who will not drink this toast ! ” 

‘‘ Le Gardeur will not drink it ! Neither would I in hi-s 
place,” replied Emeric de Lantagnac, too drunk now to 
mind what he said. ‘‘ I would drink to the bright eyes of 
no woman who had played me the trick Angelique has 
played upon Le Gardeur ! ” 


448 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


What trick has she played upon me ? ’’ repeated Le 
Gardeur with a touch of anger. 

Why, she has jilted you, and now flies at higher game, 
and nothing but a prince of the blood will satisfy her ! ” 

“ Does she say that } or do you invent it ? ’’ Le Gar- 
deur was almost choking with angry feelings. Emeric 
cared little what he said drunk or sober. He replied 
gravely : — 

‘‘Oh, all the women in the city say she said it ! But 
you know, Le Gardeur, women will lie of one another faster 
than a man can count a hundred by tens.’’ 

.De Fean while enjoying the vexation of Le Gardeur, 
feared that the banter of Emeric might have an ill effect 
on his scheme. “ I do not believe it, Le Gardeur,” said he, 
“ Angelique is too true a wpman to say what she means, to 
every jealous rival. The women hope she has jilted you. 
That counts one more chance for them, you know ! Is 
not that feminine arithmetic, Le Mercier ? ” asked he. 

“ It is at the Friponne,” replied Le Mercier, laughing. 
“ But the man who becomes debtor to Angelique des Me- 
loises will never, if I know her, be discharged out of her 
books even if he pay his debt.” 

“ Aye, they say she never lets a lover go, or a friend 
either,” replied De Fean. “I have proof to convince Le 
Gardeur that Angelique has not jilted him. Emeric re- 
ports women’s tattle, nothing more.” 

Le Gardeur was thoroughly roused. “ Par Dieu ! ” ex- 
claimed he, “ my affairs are well talked over in the city I 
think ! Who gave man or woman the right to talk of me 
thus ? ” 

“ No one gave them the right. But the women claim 
it indefeasibly from Eve, who commenced talking of 
Adam’s affairs with Satan the first time her man’s back 
was turned.” 

“ Fshaw ! Angelique des Meloises is as sensible as she 
is beautiful! she never said that! No, Par Dieu! she 
never said to man or woman that she had jilted me, or 
gave reason for others to say so ! ” 

Le Gardeur in his vexation poured out with nervous 
hand a large glass of pure brandy and drank it down. It 
had an instant effect. His forehead flushed and his eyes 
dilated with fresh fire, “ She never said that ! ” repeated 
he fiercely. “ I would swear it on my mother’s head she 


A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT, 


449 

never did ! and would kill any man who would dare affirm 
it of her ! ” 

“ Right ! the way to win a woman is never to give her 
up/^ answered De Pean. Hark you, Le Gardeur, all the 
city knows that she favored you more than any of the rest 
of her legion of admirers. Why are you moping away 
your time here at Tilly when you ought to be running down 
your game in the city ? ’’ 

“ My Atalanta is too fleet of foot for me, De Pean,’’ 
replied Le Gardeur. ‘‘ I have given up the chase. I have 
not the liick of Hippomanes.” 

‘‘That is, she is too fast ! ” said De Pean mockingly. 

“ But have you thrown a golden apple at her feet to stop 
your runaway nymph ? ” 

“ I have thrown myself at her feet, De Pean ! And in 
vain,” said Le Gardeur, gulping down another cup of brandy. 

De Pean watched the effect of the deep potations which 
Le Gardeur now poured down to quench the rising fires 
kindled in his breast. “ Come here, Le Gardeur,” said he, 
“ I have a message for you which I would not deliver be- 
fore, lest you might be angry.” 

De Pean led him into a recess of the room. “ You are 
wanted in the city,” whispered he j “ Angdique sent this 
little note by me. She put it in my hand as I was embark- 
ing for Tilly, and blushed redder than a rose as she did so. 
I promised to deliver it safely to you.” 

It was a note quaintly folded in a style Le Gardeur re- 
cognized well, inviting him to return to the city. Its lan- 
guage was a mixture of light persiflage and tantalizing 
coquetry. “ She was dying of thedulness of the city. The 
late ball at the palace had been a failure lacking the pres 
ence of Le Gardeur. Her house, was forlorn without the 
visits of her dear friend, and she wanted his trusty coun- 
sel in an affair of the last importance to her welfare and 
happiness.” « 

“That girl loves you and you may have her for the 
asking !” continued De Pean, as Le Gardeur sat crump- 
ling the letter up in his hand. De Pean watched his coun- 
tenance with the eye of a basilisk. 

“ Do you think so ? ” asked Le Gardeur, eagerly, “ but 
no, I have no more faith in woman ; she does not mean it ! ” 

“ But if she does mean it ! would you go, Le Gardeur ? ” 

“ Would I go ? ” replied he up excitedly ; “ yes, I would 
29 


450 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


go to the lowest pit in hell for her ! but why are you taunt- 
ing me, De Pean ? 

“ I taunt you ! Read her note again ! She wants your 
trusty counsel in an affair of the last importance to her 
welfare and happiness. You know what is the affair of 
last importance to a woman ! will you refuse her now, Le 
Gardeur ? ” 

‘‘No, Har Dieu I I can refuse her nothing ; no, not if 
she asked me for my head, although I know it is but 
mockery.’’ 

“ Never mind ! Then you will return with us to the 
city? We start at daybreak.” 

“ Yes, I will go with you De Pean ; you have made me 
drunk, and I am willing to stay drunk till I leave Amelie 
and my Aunt and Heloise, up at the Manor House. Pierre 
Philibert, he will be angry that I leave him, but he can fol- 
low,* and they can all follow ! I hate myself for it, De 
Pean ! But Angelique des Meloises is to me more than 
creature or creator. It is a sin to love a woman as I love 
her, De Pean ! ” 

De Pean fairly writhed before the spirit he evoked. 
He was not so sure of his game but that it might yet be 
lost. He knew Angelique’s passionate impulses, and he 
thought that no woman could resist such devotion as that 
of Le Gardeur. 

He kept down his feelings however. He saw that Le 
Gardeur was ripe for ruin. They returned to the table and 
drank still more freely. Dice and cards were resumed, fresh 
challenges were thrown out ; Emeric and Le Mercier were 
already deep in a game ; money was pushed to and fro. The 
contagion fastened like a plague upon Le Gardeur, who 
sat down at the table, drew forth a full purse, and pulling 
up every anchor of restraint set sail on the floodtide of 
drinking and gaming which lasted without ceasing until 
break of day. 

De Pean never for a moment lost sight of his scheme 
for the abduction of Le Gardeur. He got ready for de- 
parture, and with a drunken rush and a broken song the 
four gallants with unwashed faces and disordered clothes 
staggered into their canoe and with a shout bade the boat- 
men start. 

The hardy canotiers were ready for departure. They 
headed their long canoes down the flowing river, dashed 


A WILD NIGHT INDOORS AND OUT, 


451 


their paddles into the water, just silvered with the rays of 
the rising sun and shot down stream towards the city of 
Quebec^ 

De Pean, elate with his success, did not let the gaiety 
of the party flag for a moment during their return. They 
drank, sang and talked balderdash and indecencies in a 
way to bring a look of disgust upon the cheeks of the 
rough boatmen. 

Le Gardeur, from an innate cleanness of soul and 
imagination, intoxicated as he might be, never defiled his 
lips with impurities, although he drank and rioted to match 
the wildest of his companions. Emeric de Lantagnac 
and he sat supporting one another, drinking unmeaning 
healths to all the bright eyes in the city, which they were 
going to see, and joining in the wild chorus of the boat- 
men, who strove vainly to drown the noise of their drunken 
passengers. 

Much less sober than when they left Tilly, the riotous 
party reached the capital. The canotiers with rapid 
strokes of the paddle passed the high cliffs and guarded 
walls, and made for the quay of the Friponne, De Pean, 
forcing silence upon his companions as they passed the 
Sault ail Matelot,, where a crowd of idle boatmen hailed 
them with volleys of raillery, which only ceased when the 
canoe was near enough for them to see whom it contained. 
They were instantly silent. The rigorous search made by 
order of the Intendant after the late rioters, and the sum- 
mary punishment inflicted upon all who had been convicted, 
had inspired a careful avoidance of offence towards Bigot 
and the high officers of his staff. 

De Pean landed quietly, few caring to turn their heads 
too often towards him. Le Gardeur, wholly under his 
control, staggered out of the canoe, and taking his arm, 
was dragged, rather than led up to the palace, where Bigot 
greeted the party with loud welcome. Apartments were 
assigned to Le Gardeur, as to a most honored guest in the 
palace. Le Gardeur de Repentigny was finally and 
wholly in. the power of the Intendant. 

Bigot looked triumphant, and congratulated De Pean 
on the success of his mission. We will keep him now ! 
said he, “ Le Gardeur must never draw a sober breath 
again until we have done with him ! ’’ 

De Pean looked knowingly at Bigot ; ‘‘ I understand, 


452 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


said he, Emeric and Le Mercier will drink him blind, and 
Cadet, Varin, and the rest of us will rattle the dice like 
hail. We must pluck the pigeon to his last feather before 
he will feel desperate enough to play your game, Cheva- 
lier.” 

As you like, De Pean about that,” replied Bigot, 
only mind that he does not leave the palace. His friends 
will run after him. That accursed Philibert will be here ; on 
your life do not let him see him ! Hark you ! when he 
comes, make Le Gardeur affront him by some offensive 
reply to his inquiry. You can do it.” 

De Pean took the hint, and acted upon it by forging 
that infamous card in the name of Le Gardeur, and send- 
ing it as his reply to Pierre Philibert. 


CHAPTER XLIL 

MERE MALHEUR. ' 

La Corriveau, eager to commence her work of wicked- 
ness, took up her abode at the house of her ancient friend. 
Mere Malheur, whither she went on the night of her first 
interview with Ange'lique. 

It was a small house, built of uncut stones, with rough 
stone steps and lintels, a peaked roof, and low overhang- 
ing eaves, hiding itself under the shadow of the cliff, so 
closely, that it seemed to form a part of the rock itself. 

Its sole inmate, an old crone who had reached the last 
degree of woman’s ugliness and woman’s heartlessness : 
Mere Malheur, sold fair winds to superstitious sailors, and 
good luck to hunters and voyageurs. She was not a little 
suspected of dabbling in other forbidden things. Half 
believing in her own impostures, she regarded La Corriveau 
with a feeling akin to worship, who in return for this 
devotion, imparted to her a few secrets of minor impor- 
tance in her diabolic arts. 

La Corriveau was ever a welcome guest at the house 
of Mere Malheur, who feasted her lavishly, and served her 
obsequiously, but did not press with undue curiosity to 


MEJ^E MALHEUR. 


4S3 


learn her business in the city. The two women under- 
stood one another well enough, not to pry too closely into 
each other’s secrets. 

On this occasion La Corriveau was more than usually 
reserved, and while Mere Malheur eagerly detailed to her 
all the doings and undoings that had happened in her 
circle of acquaintance, she got little information in return. 
She shrewdly concluded that La Corriveau had business 
on hand which would not bear to be spoken of. 

“When you need my help ask for it without scruple. 
Dame Dodier,” said the old crone. “ I see you have some- 
thing on hand that may need my aid. I would go into the 
fire to serve you, although I would not burn my finger for 
any other woman in the world, and you know it.” 

“Yes, I know it. Mere Malheur,” La Corriveau spoke 
with an air of superiority, “ and you say rightly, I have 
something on hand which I cannot accomplish alone, and 
I need your help, although I cannot tell you yet, how or 
against whom.” 

“ Is it a woman or a man ? I will only ask that 
question, Dame Dodier,” said the crone, turning upon her 
a pair of green inquisitive eyes. 

“ It is a woman, and so of course you will help me. 
Our sex for the bottom of all mischief. Mere Malheur ! 
I do not know what women are made for except to plague 
one another for the sake of worthless men ! ” 

The old crone laughed a hideous laugh, and playfully 
pushed her long fingers into the ribs of La Corriveau. 
“Made for ! quotha ! men’s temptation to be sure, and the 
beginning of all mischief ! ” 

“ Pretty temptations, you and I are. Mere Malheur ! ” 
replied La Corriveau with a scornful laugh. 

“Well, we were pretty temptations once! I will never 
give up that ! you must own Dame Dodier, we were both 
pretty temptations once ! ” 

“ Pshaw 1 I wish I had been a man for my part,” 
replied La Corriveau, impetuously. “ It was a spiteful cross 
of fate to make me a woman 1 ” 

“ But, Dame Dodier, I like to be a woman, I do ! A 
man cannot be half as wicked as a woman, especially if 
she be young and pretty,” said the old woman, laughing 
till the tears ran out of her bleared eyes. 

“ Nay, that is true. Mere Malheur, the fairest women in 


454 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


the world are ever the worst ! fair and false ! fair and false 1 
they are always so. Not one better than another. Satan’s 
mark is upon all of us ! ” La Corriveau looked an incar 
nation of Hecate as she uttered this calumny upon her 
sex. 

“ Aye, I have his mark on my knee, Dame Dodier,” 
replied the crone. ‘‘ See here ! It was pricked once in the 
high court of Arras, but the fool judge decided that it was 
a mole, and not a witch mark ! I escaped a red gown that 
time, however. I laughed at his stupidity, and bewitched 
him for it in earnest. I was young and pretty then ! He 
died in a year, and Satan sat on his grave in the shape 
of a black cat until his friends set a cross over it. I like 
to be a woman, I do, it is so easy to be wicked, and so nice ! 
I always tell the girls that, and they give me twice as 
much as if I had told them to be good and nice, as they 
call it ! Pshaw ! nice ! If only men knew us as we really 
are!” 

‘‘Well, I do not like women. Mere Malheur,” replied 
La Corriveau, “they sneer at you and me, and call us 
witch and sorceress, and they will lie, steal, kill and do 
worse themselves for the sake of one man to-day, and 
cast him off for sake of another, to-morrow 1 Wise Solomon 
found only one good woman in a thousand ; the wisest 
man, now, finds not one in a worldful 1 It were better all 
of us were dead. Mere Malheur ; but pour me out a glass 
of wine, for I am tired of tramping in the dark to the 
house of that gay lady I told you of.” 

Mere Malheur poured out a glass of choice Beaume 
from a demi-jeaune^ which she had received from a roguish 
sailor, who had stolen it from his ship. 

“ But you have not told me who she is, Dame Dodier,” 
replied Mere Malheur, refilling the glass of La Corriveau. 

“ Nor will I yet. She is fit to be your mistress and 
mine, whoever she is ; but I shall not go again to see 
her.” 

And La Corriveau did not again visit the house of 
Angelique. She had received from her, precise information 
respecting the movements of the Intendant. He had gone 
to the Trois Rivieres, on urgent affairs, and might be ab- 
sent for a week. 

Angelique had received from Varin, in reply to her 
eager question for news, a short falsified account of the 


MALHEUR. 


455 

proceedings in the council relative to Caroline, and 
Bigot^s indignant denial of all knowledge of her. 

Varin, as a member of the council, dared not reveal the 
truth, but would give his familiars half hints, or tell to 
others elaborate lies when pressed for information. He 
did not in this case even hint at the fact that a search was 
to be made for Caroline. Had he done so, Angelique 
would herself have given secret information to the Gover- 
nor, to order the search of Beaumanoir, and thus got her 
rival out of the way without trouble, risk or crime. 

But it was not to be. The little word that would have 
set her active spirit on fire to aid in the search for Caro- 
line was not spoken, and her thoughts remained immove- 
ably fixed upon her death. 

But if Angelique had been misled by Varin, as to what 
had passed at the council. Mere Malheur, through her 
intercourse with a servant of Varin, had learned the truth. 
An eavesdropping groom had overheard his master and 
the Intendant conversing on the letters of the Baron and 
of La Pompadour. The man told his sweetheart, who, 
coming with some stolen sweetmeats to Mere Malheur, 
told her, who in turn was not long in imparting what she 
had heard to La Corriveau. 

La Corriveau did not fail to see that should Angelique 
discover that her rival was to be searched for, and taken to 
France if found, she would at once change her mind, and 
Caroline would be got rid of without need of her interference. 
But La Corriveau had got her hand in the dish. She was 
not one to lose her promised reward or miss the chance 
of so cursed a deed by any untimely avowal of what she 
knew. 

So Angelique was doomed to remain in ignorance until 
too late. She became the dupe of her own passions and 
the dupe of La Corriveau, who carefully concealed from 
her a secret so important. 

Bigot’s denial in the council weighed nothing with her. 
She felt certain that the lady was no other than Caroline 
de St. Castin. Angelique was acute enough to perceive 
that Bigot’s bold assertion that he knew nothing of her 
bound him in a chain of obligation never to confess after- 
wards aught to the contrary. She eagerly persuaded her- 
self that he would not regret to hear that Caroline had 
died by some sudden and, to appearance, natural death, 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


456 

and thus relieved him of a danger, and her of an obstacie 
to her marriage. 

Without making a full confidante of Mere Malheur, La 
Corriveau resolved to make use of her in carrying out her 
diabolical scheme. Mere Malheur had once been a ser- 
vant at Beaumanoir. She knew the house, and in her hey- 
day of youth and levity had often smuggled herself in and 
out by the subterranean passage which connected the 
solitary watch-tower with the vaults of the chateau. Mere 
Malheur knew Dame Tremblay, who as the charming 
Josephine, had often consulted her upon the perplexities of 
a heart divided among too many lovers. 

The memory of that fragrant period of her life was the 
freshest and pleasantest of all Dame Tremblay’s experi- 
ence. It was like the odor of new-mown hay, telling of 
early summer and frolics in the green fields. She liked 
nothing better than to talk it all over, in her snug room, 
with Mere Malheur, as they sat opposite one another at 
her little table, each with a cup of tea in her hand, well 
laced with brandy, which was a favorite weakness of them 
both. 

Dame Tremblay was in private neither nice nor squeam- 
ish as to the nature of her gossip. She and the old fortune- 
teller, when out of sight of the rest of the servants, had 
always a dish of the choicest scandal, fresh from the 
city. 

La Corriveau resolved to send Mere Malheur to Beau- 
manoir, under the pretence of paying a visit to Dame 
Tremblay, in order to open a way of communication be- 
tween herself and Caroline. She had learned enough 
during her brief interview with Caroline, in the forest of St. 
Valier and from what she now heard respecting the Baron 
de St. Castin, to convince her, that this was no other than 
his missing daughter. 

‘‘ If Caroline could only be induced to admit La Corri- 
veau into her secret chamber, and take her into her confi- 
dence, the rest — all the rest,” muttered the hag to herself, 
with terrible emphasis, ‘‘ would be easy, and my reward 
sure. But that reward shall be measured in my own 
bushel, not in yours. Mademoiselle des Meloises, when the 
deed is done ! 

La Corriveau knew the power such a secret would enable 
her to exercise over Angelique. She already regarded the 


MERE MALHEUR. 


457 


half of her reputed riches as her own. “ Neither she nor 
the Intendant will ever dare neglect me after that ! ” said 
she. “When once Angdique shall be linked in with me 
by a secret compact of blood, the fortune of La Corriveau 
is made. If the death of this girl be the elixir of life to 
you, it shall be the touchstone of fortune for ever to La 
Corriveau ! ” 

Mere Malheur was next day despatched on a visit to 
her old gossip Dame Tremblay. She had been well tu- 
tored on every point what to say, and how to demean her- 
self. She bore a letter to Caroline, written in the Italian 
hand of La Corriveau, who had learned to write well from 
her mother Marie Exili. 

The mere possession of the art of writing was a rarity 
in those days, in the class among whom she lived. La 
Corriveau’s ability to write at all was a circumstance as 
remarkable to her illiterate neighbors as the possession, of 
the black art which they ascribed to her, and not without 
a strong suspicion that it had the same origin. 

Mere Malheur, in anticipation of a cup of tea and 
brandy with Dame Tremblay, had dressed herself, with 
some appearance of smartness, in a clean, striped gown of 
linsey. A peaked Artois hat surmounted a broad-frilled 
cap, which left visible some tresses of coarse grey hair and 
a pair of silver ear-rings, which dangled with every motion 
of her head. Her shoes displayed broad buckles of brass, 
and her short petticoat showed a pair of stout ankles, en- 
closed in red clocked stockings. She carried a crutched 
stick in her hand, by help of which she proceeded vigor- 
t^usly on her journey. 

Starting in the morning, she trudged out of the city 
towards the ferry of Jean Le Nocher, who carefully crossed 
himself and his boat too as he took Mere^ Malheur on 
board. He wafted her over in a hurry, as something to be 
got rid of as quickly as possible. 

Jean would not even have accepted his fare from her 
had not Dame Babet — always at hand, noticed his hesita- 
tion. She stepped promptly up and took the coin from 
the hand of Mere Malheur. Dropping it in her capacious 
pocket, she remarked to her husband, “ You are always a 
fool, Jean. Good money never smells ! besides, we will 
pay it to the Church as a christening fee, and that will 
make it clean as the face of St. Catherine.’’ 


THE CHIEN U OR. 


45S 

Mere Malheur, although accustomed to slights and 
scorns when she appeared in public, was provoked at the 
remark of Babet. She struck her stick violently into the 
ground, and lifting up a bony finger, exclaimed, “ Devil 
fly away with you. Dame Babet ! A bad witch was spoiled 
when you became the wife of an honest man ! Your red 
cheeks will be as white as chalk before you get another 
when you lose him. Look here,” continued she, drawing 
with the end of her stick the figure of a pentagram upon 
the sand, ‘‘ when that mark is rubbed out and gone, look 
out for a misfortune ! I do not cause it, mind you, I only 
predict it ! So now. Dame Babet, good speed to my journey 
and bad luck to your staying at home ! ” 

The old crone wheeled round, and dinting her stick 
hard into the ground at every step, moved away quickly, 
leaving Jean stupefied with terror, and Babet flaming with 
anger, as she clapped her hands and vociferated, ‘‘ Aroint 
you for a witch. Mere Malheur ! May you go up to the 
moon in the flames of a tar-barrel ! Bad speed to your 
journey, for good it cannot be ! ” 

She has left the devil’s mark on the sand, Babet,” said 
Jean, disconsolately. ‘‘ Shall we rub it out, or get the cure 
to sprinkle it with holy water ? There will be sure to come 
soiTje misfortune to somebody after that.” 

‘‘ Well, if the misfortune only does not come to us — and 
she did not say it would — Jean, we need not cry tears. But 
let the mark remain, Jean, and the shall rub it out 
and avert the bad luck she has threatened.” Babet was 
less brave over the witch mark than she pretended to be. 

Jean felt uneasy, and agreed with Babet that it were 
best to preserve the mark as long as possible, seeing that 
bad luck was to accompany its disappearance. He ran to 
the cottage and brought out a tub, which he turned care- 
fully over the pentagram to prevent its being obliterated 
before the arrival of the cure., who was to be informed of 
this strange proceeding of Mere Malheur. 

The old crone went on her way, cursing and laughing 
by turns, as she passed up the long hill of Charlebourg. 
She rested herself for a time under the old tree in front of 
the Couronne de France, where two or three habitans sat 
enjoying their mugs of cider, and who promptly moved from 
their seat to make room for her. 

She sat down, looking at them with her bleared eyes, 


MERE MALHEUR. 


459 


until they shied off one by one, leaving her alone with the 
stout landlady, Dame Bedard, and her pretty daughter 
Zoe, who at once plunged into conversation with the old 
woman, and finally demanded that she should tell Zoe’s 
fortune, and what was to happen after her marriage with 
Antoine La Chance. 

Mere Malheur satisfied the curiosity of the mother and 
daughter by a circumstantial lie of the object of her pres- 
ent journey, and having had her hand duly crossed with a 
piece of silver, she told Zoe’s fortune in a way that suffused 
her maiden cheeks with happy blushes, and made her cry 
out, “ That Mere Malheur, no matter what folks said, was 
the dearest and trustiest old woman in the land ; that she 
believed every word told by her would come true, and that 
time would make it true.” 

Zoe for a long time would not tell her mother what the 
fortune-teller had said, but when she did, both mother and 
daughter laughed and looked as happy as godmothers at a 
christening. 

Mere Malheur, although but half trusted by La Corri- 
veau, instinctively guessed something of the nature of her 
black errand, and was as impatient for its accomplishment 
as if the ill had been all of her own contriving. 

Mere Malheur tramped on, like a heavy gnome, through 
the fallen and flying leaves of the woods of Beaumanoir, 
caring nothing for the golden, hazy sky, the soft, balmy 
air, or the varicolored leaves — scarlet, yellow, and brown, 
of every shade and tinge, that hung upon the autumnal 
trees. 

A frosty night or two had ushered in the summer of St. 
Martin, as it was called by the habitans — the Indian sum- 
mer — that brief time of glory and enchantment, which visits 
us like a gaudy herald to announce the approach of the 
Winter King. It is nature’s last rejoicing in the sunshine 
and the open air, like the splendor and gaiety of a maiden 
devoted to the cloister, who for a few weeks is allowed to 
flutter like a bird of paradise amid the pleasures and gaie- 
ties of the world, and then comes the end. Her locks of 
pride are shorn off ; she veils her beauty, and kneels a nun 
on the cold stones of her passionless cell, out of which, 
even with repentance, there comes no deliverance. 

Mere Malheur’s arrival at Beaumanoir was speedily 
known to all the servants of the chateau. She did not 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


460 

often visit them, but when she did, there was a hurried 
recital of an ave or two to avert any harm, followed by a 
patronizing welcome and a rummage for small coins to 
cross her hand withal, in return for her solutions of the 
grave questions of love, jealousy, money, and marriage, 
which fermented secretly or openly in the bosoms of all of 
them. They were but human beings, food for imposture, 
and preyed on by deceivers. The visit of Mere Malheur 
was an event of interest in both kitchen and laundry of 
the chateau. 

Dame Tremblay had the first claim, however, upon this 
singular visitor. She met her at the back door of the 
chateau, and with a face beaming with smiles, and, drop- 
ping all dignity, exclaimed, — 

“ Mere Malheur, upon my life ! Welcome, you wicked 
old soul ! you surely knew I wanted to see you ! come in 
and rest ! you must be tired unless you came on a broom ! 
ha ! ha ! come to my room and never mind anybody ! 

This last remark was made for the benefit of the 
servants who stood peeping at every door and corner not 
daring to speak to the old woman in the presence of the 
housekeeper ; but, knowing that their time would come, 
they had patience. 

The housekeeper, giving them a severe look, proceeded 
to her own snug appartment, followed by the crone, whom 
she seated in her easiest chair and proceeded to refresh 
with a glass of cognac, which was swallowed with much 
relish and wiping of lips, accompanied by a little artificial 
cough. Dame Tremblay kept a carafe of it in her room to 
raise the temperature of • her low spirits and vapors to 
summer heat; not that she drank, far from it, but she liked 
to sip a little for her stomach’s sake. 

“ It is only a thimbleful I take now and then,” she 
said. “When I was the charming Josephine, I used to 
kiss the cups I presented to the young gallants and I took 
no more than a fly ! but they always drank bumpers from 
the cup I kissed ! ” The old Dame looked grave as she 
shook her head and remarked : “ But we cannot be always 
young and handsome, can we Mere Malheur.?” 

“ No, Dame, but we can be jolly and fat, and that is 
what we are ! You don’t quaff life by thimblefuls, and you 
only want a stout offer to show the world that you can 
trip as briskly to church yet, as any girl in New France ! ” 


MALHEUR. 


461 


The humor of the old crone convulsed Dame Trem- 
blay with laughter, as if some invisible fingers were tick- 
ling her wildly under the armpits. 

She composed herself at last, and drawing her chair 
close to that of Mere Malheur, looked her inquiringly in 
the face and asked, “ what is the news ’’ 

Dame Tremblay was endowed with more than the 
ordinary curiosity of her sex. She knew more news of 
city and country than any one else, and she dispensed it 
as freely as she gathered. She never let her stock of gos- 
sip run low, and never allowed man or woman to come to 
speak with her without pumping them dry of all they knew ! 
A secret in anybody’s possession set her wild to possess it, 
and she gave no rest to her inordinate curiosity until she 
had fished it out of even the muddiest waters. 

The mystery that hung round Caroline was a source of 
perpetual irritation to the nerves of Dame Tremblay. She 
had tried as far as she dared by hint and suggestion to 
draw from the lady some reference to her name and family, 
but in vain. Caroline would avow nothing, and Dame 
Tremblay, completely baffled by a failure of ordinary means 
to find out the secret, bethought herself of her old resource 
in case of perplexity. Mere Malheur. 

For several days she had been brooding over this mode 
of satisfying her curiosity, when the unexpected visit of 
Mere Malheur, set aside all further hesitation about dis- 
obeying the Intendant’s orders, not to inquire or allow any 
other person to make inquisition respecting Caroline. 

“ Mere Malheur ! you feel comfortable now ! ’’ said she. 
“ That glass of cognac has given *you a color like a 
peony ! ” 

“ Yes, I am very comfortable now. Dame ! your cog- 
nac is heavenly ! It warms without burning. That glass 
is the best news I have to tell of to-day ! ’’ 

“ Nay, but there is always something stirring in the 
city ; somebody born, married or dead, somebody courted, 
won, lost or undone! somebody’s name up, somebody’s 
reputation down 1 Tell me all you know, Mere Malheur ! 
and then I will tell you something will make you glad you 
came to Beaumanoir to day. Take another sip of cognac 
and begin 1 ” 

“ Aye, Dame, that is indeed a temptation 1 ” she took 
two deep sips and holding her glass in her hand, began 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


462 

with loose tongue to relate the current gossip of the city, 
which although already known to Dame Tremblay, an ill 
natured version of it from the lips of her visitor seemed to 
give it a fresh seasoning and a relish which it had not pre^ 
viously possessed. 

“Now, Mere Malheur! T have a secret to tell you,” 
said Dame Tremblay, in a low confidential tone, “a dead 
secret! mind you, which you had better be burnt than 
reveal. There is a lady, a real lady if I ever saw one, 
living in the Chateau here, in the greatest privacy. I and 
the Intendant only see her. She is beautiful and full of 
sorrow as the picture of the blessed Madonna. What she 
is, I may guess ; but who she is I cannot conjecture, and 
would give my little finger to know ! ” 

“Tut, Dame ! ” replied Mere Malheur with a touch of 
confidence, “ I will not believe any woman could keep a 
secret from you ! But this is news indeed ; you tell me ! 
A lady in concealment here.^ and you say you cannot 
find her out ? Dame Tremblay ! ” 

“ In truth I cannot, I have tried every artifice, but she 
passes all my wit and skill. If she were a man I would 
have drawn her very teeth out with less difficulty than I 
have tried to extract the name of this lady. When I was 
the charming Josephine of Lake Beauport I could wind 
men like a thread round which finger I liked, but this is a 
tangled knot which drives me to despair to unravel it. 

“What do you know about her. Dame } tell me all you 
suspect ! ” said Mere Malheur. 

“Truly,” replied the Dame, without the least asperity, 
“ I suspect the poor thing, like the rest of us, is no better 
than she should be ; and the Intendant knows it and Mad- 
emoiselle de Meloises knows it, too, and to judge by her 
constant prayers and penitence, she knows it herself, but 
too well and will not say it to me ! ” 

“ Aye, Dame ! but this is great news you tell me ! ” 
replied Mere Malheur, eagerly clutching at the opportunity 
thus offered for the desired interview. “ But what help do 
you expect from me in the matter 1 ” Mere Malheur looked 
very expectant at her friend, who continued : “ I want you 
to see that lady, under promise of secrecy, mark you ! and 
look at her hands and tell me who and what she is.” 

Dame Tremblay had an unlimited faith in the super 
stitions of her age. 


MERE MALHEUR, 


463 

I will do all you wish, Dame, but you must allow me 
to see her alone,’’ replied the crone, who felt she was thus 
opening the door to La Corriveau. 

“ To be sure I will ! that is if she will consent to be 
seen, for she has in some things a spirit of her own ! I am 
afraid to push her too closely ! The mystery of her is 
taking the flesh off my bones, and I can only get sleep by 
taking strong possets. Mere Malheur ! Feel my elbow ! 
feel my knee ! I have not had so sharp an elbow, or knee, 
since Goodman Tremblay died ! and he said I had the 
sharpest elbow and knee in the city ! but I had to punch 
him sometimes to keep him in order ! But set that horrid 
cap straight Mere Malheur ! while I go ask her if she 
would like to have her fortune told. She is not a woman 
if she would not like to know her fortune, for she is in de- 
spair, I think, with all the world ; and when a woman is in 
despair, as I know by my own experience, she will jump at 
any chance, for spite, if not for love, as I did when I took 
the Sieur Tremblay by your advice. Mere Malheur ! ” 

Dame Tremblay left the old crone making hideous 
faces in a mirror. She rubbed her cheeks and mouth with 
the corner of her apron as she proceeded to the door of 
Caroline’s apartment. She knocked gently and a low soft 
voice bade her enter. 

Caroline was seated on a chair by the window knitting 
her sad thoughts into a piece of work which she occasion- 
ally lifted from her lap with a sudden start as something 
broke the train of her reflections. 

She was weighing over and over her in thoughts like gold 
in a scale, by grains and pennyweights, a few kind words 
lately spoken to her by Bigot when he ran in to bid her 
adieu before departing on his journey to the Trois Rivieres. 
They seemed a treasure inexhaustible as she kept on re- 
peating them to herself. The pressure of his hand had been 
warmer, the tone of his voice softer, the glance of his eye 
more kind, and he looked pityingly, she thought, upon her 
wan face, when he left her in the gallery, and with a cheery 
voice and a kiss, bade her take care of her health, and win 
back the lost roses of Acadia. 

These words passed through her mind with unceasing 
repetition, and a white border of light was visible on the 
edge of the dark cloud which hung over her. “ The roses 
of Acadia will never bloom again,” thought she, sadly. 


464 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


I have watered them with salt tears too long and all in 
vain. O, Bigot, I fear it is too late, too late ! Still his 
last look and last words reflected a faint ray of hope and 
joy upon her pallid countenance. 

Dame Tremblay entered the apartment and while busy- 
ing herself on pretense of setting it in order, talked in her 
garrulous way of the little incidents of daily life in the 
chateau, and finished by a mention, as if it were casual, of 
the arrival of the wise woman of the city, who knew every- 
thing, who could interpret dreams, and tell, by looking in a 
glass or in your hand, things past, present and to come. 

‘‘ A wonderful woman,” Dame Tremblay said, a peril- 
ous woman, too, not safe to deal with, but for all that every 
one runs after her, and she has a good or bad word for 
every person who consults her. For my part,” continued 
the dame, she foretold my marriage with the Goodman 
Tremblay long before it happened, and she also foretold 
his death to the very month it happened. So I have reason 
to believe in her as well as to be thankful ! ” 

Caroline listened attentively to the dame’s remarks. 
She was not superstitious, but yet not above the beliefs 
of her age, while the Indian strain in her lineage and her 
familiarity with the traditions of the Abenaquais inclined 
her to yield more than ordinary respect to dreams. 

Caroline had dreamed of riding on a coal black horse, 
seated behind the veiled figure of a man, whose face she 
could not see, who carried her like the wind away to the 
ends of the earth, and there shut her up in a mountain for 
ages and ages, until a bright angel cleft the rock and clasp- 
ing her in his arms bore her up to light and liberty in the 
presence of the Redeemer and of all the host of heaven. 

This dream lay heavy on her mind. For the veiled 
figure she knew was one she loved, but who had no honest 
love for her. Her mind had been brooding over the dream 
all day, and the announcement by Dame Tremblay of the 
presence in the chateau of one who was able to interpret 
dreams, seemed a stroke of fortune, if not an act of provi- 
dence. 

She roused herself up, and with more animation than 
Dame Tremblay had yet seen in her countenance, requested 
her to send up the visitor that she might ask her a question. 

Mere Malheur was quickly summoned to the apartment 
of Caroline, where Dame Tremblay left them alone. 


MERE MALHEUR. 


4^5 

The repulsive look of the old crone sent a shock through 
the fine nervous organization of the young girl. She re- 
quested Mere Malheur to be seated, however, and in her 
gentle manner questioned her about the dream. 

Mhre Malheur was an adept in such things, and knew 
well how to humor human nature, and lead it to put its 
own interpretations upon its own visions and desires while 
giving all the credit of it to herself. 

Mere Malheur therefore interpreted the dream accord- 
ing to Caroline’s secret wishes. This inspired a sort of 
confidence ; and Mere Malheur seized the opportunity to 
deliver the letter from La Corriveau. 

My lady,.” said she, looking carefully round the room 
to note if the door was shut and no one was present, I 
can tell you more than the interpretation of your dream. 
I can tell who you are and why you are here 1 ” 

Caroline started with a frightened look, and stared in 
the face of Mere Malheur. She faltered out at length : 
“ You know who I am and why I am here ? Impossible ! 
I never saw you before.” 

No, my lady, you never saw me before, but I will 
convince you that I know you. You are the daughter of 
the Baron de St. Castin ! Is it not so ? ” The old crone 
looked frightfully knowing as she uttered these words. 

Mother of mercies ! what shall I do ? ” ejaculated 
the alarmed girl, “ Who are you to say that ? ” 

“ I am but a messenger, my lady. Listen ! I am sent 
here to give you secretly this letter from a ’ friend who 
knows you better than I, and who above all things desires 
an interview with you, as she has things of the deepest 
import to communicate.” 

“ A letter ! O what mystery is all this ? A letter for 
me ! Is it from the Intendant ? ” 

“ No, my lady, it is from a woman.” Caroline blushed 
and trembled as she took it from the old crone. 

A woman ! It flashed upon the mind of Caroline that 
the letter was important. She opened it with trembling 
fingers, anticipating she knew not what direful tidings 
when her eyes ran over the clear handwriting. 

La Corriveau had written to the effect that she was an 
unknown friend, desirous of serving her in a moment of 
peril. The Baron de St. Castin had traced her to New 
France, and had procured from the king instructions to the 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


466 

Governor to search for her everywhere, and to send her to 
France. Other things of great import, the writer said, she 
had also to communicate, if Caroline w^ould grant her a pri- 
vate interview in the chateau. 

There was a passage leading from the old deserted 
watch tower to the vaulted chamber,’’ continued the letter, 
and the writer would without further notice come on the 
following night to Beaumanoir, and knock at the arched door 
of her chamber about the hour of midnight, when, if Caroline 
pleased to admit her, she would gladly inform her of very 
important matters relating to herself, to the Intendant, and 
to the Baron de St. Castin, who was on his w’ay out to the 
colony to conduct in person the search after his lost 
daughter.” 

The letter concluded with the information “ that the 
Intendant had gone to the Trois Rivieres whence he might 
not return for a week, and that during his absence the 
Governor would probably order a search for her to be 
made at Beaumanoir.” 

Caroline held the letter convulsively in her hand as 
she gathered its purport rather than read it. Her face 
changed color from a deep flush of shame to the palest 
hue of fear, when she comprehended its meaning and un- 
derstood that her father was on his way to New France to 
find out her hiding place. 

“ What shall I do ! O, what shall I do ! ” exclaimed 
she, wringing her hands for very anguish, regardless of the 
presence of Mere Malheur, who stood observing her with 
eyes glittering with curiosity, but void of every mark of 
womanly sympathy or feeling. 

‘‘ My father, my loving father ! ” continued Caroline, 
‘‘ my deeply injured father, coming here with anger in his 
face to drag me from my concealment ! I shall drop dead 
at his feet for very shame. O that I were buried alive with 
mountains piled over me to hide me from my father ! 
What shall I do ? Whither shall I go ? Bigot. Bigot, why 
have you forsaken me ? ” 

Mere Malheur continued eyeing her with cold curiosity, 
but was ready at the first moment to second the prompt- 
ings of the evil spirit contained in the letter. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said she, “ there is but one way to 
escape from the search to be made by your father and the 
Governor — take counsel of her who sends you that friendly 


MERE MALHEUR. 467 

letter. She can offer you a safe hiding place until the 
storm blows over. Will you see her, my lady ? ” 

‘‘ See her ! I, who dare see no one ! Who is she that 
sends me such strange news ? Is it truth ? Do you know 
her ? ’’ continued she, looking fixedly at Mere Malheur, as 
if in hope of reading on her countenance some contradic- 
tion of the matter contained in the letter. 

think it is all true, my lady,” replied she with mock 
humility, ‘‘ I am but a poor messenger, however, and speak 
not myself of things I do not know, but she who sends me 
will tell you all.” 

“ Does the Intendant know her ? ” 

‘‘ I think he told her to watch over your safety during 
his absence. She is old and your friend ; will you see 
her ? ” replied Mere Malheur, who saw the point was 
gained. 

O yes, yes ! tell her to come. Beseech her not to fail to 
come, or I shall go mad. O woman ! you too are old and 
experienced and ought to know ; can she help me in this 
strait, think you? ” exclaimed Caroline, clasping her hands 
in a gesture of entreaty. 

‘‘No one is more able to help you,” said the crone, 
“ she can counsel you what to do, and if need be, find 
means to conceal you from the search that will be made 
for you.” 

“ Haste, then, and bid her come to-morrow night ! 
Why not to-night ? ” Caroline was all nervous impatience. 
“ I will wait her coming in the vaulted chamber ; I will 
watch for her as one in the valley of death watches for the 
angel of deliverance. Bid her come, and at midnight to- 
morrow she shall find the door of the secret chamber open 
to admit her.” 

The eagerness of the ill-fated girl to see La Corriveau 
outran every calculation of Mere Malheur. It was in 
vain and useless for her to speak further on the subject ; 
Caroline would say no more. Her thoughts ran violently 
in the direction suggested by the artful letter. “ She 
would see La Corriveau to-morrow night and would make 
no more avowals to Mere Malheur,” she said to herself. 

Seeing no more was to be got out of her, the crone 
bade her a formal farewell, looking at her curiously as she 
did so, and wondering in her mind if she should ever see 
her again. For the old creature had a shrewd suspicion 


468 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


that La Corriveau had not told her all her intentions with 
respect to this singular girl. 

Caroline returned her salute still holding the letter in 
her hand. She sat down to peruse it again, and observed 
not Mere Malheur’s equivocal glance as she turned her 
eyes for the last time upon the innocent girl, doomed to 
receive the midnight visit from La Corriveau, 


CHAPTER XLIIL 

OUTVENOMS ALL THE WORMS OF NILE. 

“There is death in the pot! ” the crone muttered as 
she went out — “ La Corriveau comes not here on her own 
errand either I That girl is too beautiful to live and to 
some one her death is worth gold 1 It will go hard, but La 
Corriveau shall share with me the reward of the work of 
to-morrow night I ” 

In the long gallery she encountered Dame Tremblay 
“ ready to eat her up,” as she told La Corriveau afterwards, 
in the eagerness of her curiosity to learn the result of her 
interview with Caroline. 

Mere Malheur was wary and accustomed to fence with 
words. It was necessary to tell a long tale of circumstances 
to Dame Tremblay but not necessary nor desirable to tell 
the truth. The old crone, therefore, as soon as she had 
seated herself in the easy chair of the housekeeper and 
refreshed herself by twice accepting the dame’s pressing 
invitation to tea and cognac, related, with uplifted hands 
and shaking head, a narrative of bold lies regarding what 
had really past during her interview with Caroline. 

“ But who is she. Mere Malheur I Did she tell you her 
name ? Did she show you her palm ” 

“ Both I Dame, both I She is a girl of Ville Marie who 
has run away from her parents for love of the gallant 
Intendant and is in hiding from them. They wanted to 
put her into the convent to cure her of love. The convent 
always cures love, dame, beyond the power of philters to 
revive it 1 ” and the old crone laughed inwardly to herself 
as if she doubted her own saying. 


OUTVENOMS ALL THE WORMS OF NILE. 469 

Dame Tremblay dissented heartily from this opinion. 

“ It would not have cured me, when I was the charming 
Josephine of Lake Beauport,” said she ; “ they once talked of 
sending me to the convent ! But law ! all the young gentle- 
men in the city would have filled the parlor to see me on 
every visiting-day. There is nothing they admire so much 
as a pretty nun, Mere Malheur ! But you have not told 
me all about my lady. What did she say ? Does she expect 
the Intendant to marry her ? Is she to be mistress and all 
of the Chateau ? ’’ 

“ She is the mistress of the Chateau now, dame ! ’’ replied 
M^re Malheur. “ The Intendant will refuse her nothing and 
I believe he will marry her ! There, that is all I know.” 

“ No, you know more ! Did she not tell you how jealous 
she was of that bold faced Angelique des Meloises, who, 
they say, is resolved to marry the Intendant whether he 
will or no ? ” 

No ! she mentioned not her name ; but she loves the 
Intendant and fears every woman as a rival — and with 
reason ! ” chuckled Mere Malheur. 

“ Aye ! does she not ! ” replied Dame Tremblay. She 
fears Angelique des Meloises more than poison ! but she 
would not, of course, tell you as she tells me. But did she 
not tell you her name. Mere Malheur ? ” 

“ No ! Girls of that kind and in her condition have 
generally lost their name without finding another ! ” said 
the old crone with a mocking laugh. 

‘‘ Well, I cannot laugh at her ! ” replied Dame Tremblay 
kindly. “ If her good name is gone, it was for love, not for 
hate ! It is only your women without hearts who laugh at 
us who have them. If all the world laugh at her, I will 
not. She is a dear angel, and I love her ! When I was the 
charming Josephine — ” 

Aye ! we were all dear angels some time or other, dame ! 
and the world is full of fallen ones ! interupted the crone 
with a leer, as if some far-off reminiscence revisited her 
fancy. 

‘‘When I was the charming Josephine of Lake Beau- 
port, I was going to say, but you always interrupt me. 
Mere Malheur ! No one could say black was my nail or 
if they did, they lied ! ” exclaimed the dame with a little 
heat — but presently reflecting that Mere Malheur had 
received all her tender confessions and knew all her secrets 


470 


TEE CHIEN OR. 


concerning more than a score of admirers, she burst out 
laughing, and pouring out the old crone another cup, bade 
her “ go down stairs and tell the fortunes of the idle girls in 
the kitchen, who were not putting a hand to a single thing 
in the house, until she settled their curiosity about the worth- 
less men, who filled their heads and caused them to empty 
their pockets of their last coin to bestow it on ribbons, combs 
and fortune-tellers ! Such ridiculous things are girls now-a- 
days with their high heels and paint and patches that one 
cannot tell the mistress from the maid any more ! When 
I was the charming Josephine — ’’ 

Mere Malheur cut short the impending story, by getting 
up and going at once to the kitchen, where she did not 
dally long with the girls, “ but fed them with big spoonfuls 
of good fortune,” she said, “ and sent them to bed happy 
as expectant brides, that night ! ” 

The crone, eager to return to La Corriveau with the 
account of her successful interview with Caroline, bade 
Dame Tremblay a hasty but formal farewell and, with her 
crutched stick in her hand, trudged stoutly back to the 
city. 

Mere Malheur, while the sun was yet high, reached her 
cottage under the rock where La Corriveau was eagerly 
expecting her at the window. The moment she entered, 
the masculine voice of La Corriveau was heard asking 
loudly : 

Have you seen her. Mere Malheur? Did you give her 
the letter? Never mind your hat! tell me before you take 
it off ! ” The old crone was tugging at the strings and La 
Corriveau came to help her. 

‘‘Yes 1 she took your letter,” replied she, impatiently. 
“ She took my story like spring water. Go at the stroke of 
twelve to-morrow night and she will let you in, Dame Dodier 1 
but will she let you out again ? eh ! ” The crone stood 
with her hat in her hand — and looked, with a wicked glance, 
at La Corriveau. 

“ If she will let me in, I shall let myself out, Mere Mal- 
heur,” replied Corriveau in a low tone. “ But why do you 
ask that ? ” 

“ Because I read mischief in your eye, and see it twitch- 
ing in your thumb, and you do not ask me to share 
your secret 1 Is it so bad as that, Dame Dodier ? ” 

“ Pshaw I you are sharing it 1 wait and you will see 


OUTVENOMS ALL THE WORMS OF NILE. 471 

your share of it! But tell me, Mere Malheur, how does 
she look^ this mysterious lady of the Chateau ? ’’ La Cor- 
riveau sat down and placed her long thin hand on the arm 
of the old crone. 

“ Like one doomed to die, because she is too good 
to live. Sorrow is a bad pasture for a young creature like 
her to feed on. Dame Dodier 1 ” was the answer, but it did 
not change a muscle on the face of La Corriveau. 

Aye ! but there are worse pastures than sorrow for 
young creatures like her, and she has found one of them,’’ 
she replied coldly. 

“ Well ! as we make our bed so must we lie on it. 
Dame Dodier 1 that is what I always tell the young silly 
things who come to me asking their fortunes ; and the pro- 
verb pleases them. They always think the bridal bed must 
be soft and well made, at any rate.” 

“ They are fools ! better make their death bed than 
their bridal bed ! But I must see this piece of perfection 
of yours to-morrow night, dame ! The Intendant returns 
in two days and he might remove her. Did she tell you 
about him ? ” 

“ No ! Bigot is a devil more powerful than the one we 
serve, dame. I fear him ! ” 

“ Tut ! I fear neither devil nor man. It was to be at 
the hour of twelve 1 Did you not say at the hour of twelve. 
Mere Malheur ? ” 

“Yes 1 go in by the vaulted passage and knock at the 
secret door. She will admit you. But what will you do 
with her. Dame Dodier ? Is she doomed ? Could you not 
be gentle with her, dame ? ” 

There was a fall in the voice of Mere Malheur — an 
intonation partly due to fear of consequences, partly to 
a fibre of pity which — dry and disused — something in 
the look of Caroline had stirred like a dead leaf quivering 
in the wind. 

“ Tut 1 has she melted your old dry heart to pity. Mere 
Malheur 1 ha 1 ha ! who would have thought that 1 and yet I 
remember she made a soft fool of me for a minute, in the 
wood of St.Valier 1 ” La Corriveau spoke in a hard tone as if, 
in reproving Mere Malheur, she was also reproving herself. 

* “ She is unlike any other woman i ever saw,” replied 

the crone, ashamed of her unwonted sympathy. “ The 
devil is clean out of her as he is out of a church.” 


472 


THE CHIEAT OR. 


“You are a fool, Mere Malheur! Out of a church, 
quotha 1 ” and La Corriveau laughed a loud laugh ; “ why I 
go to church myself, and whisper my prayers backwards to 
keep on terms with the devil, who stands nodding behind 
the altar to every one of my petitions 1 That is more 
than some people get in return for their prayers,^’ added 
she. 

“ I pray backwards in church too. Dame, but I could 
never get sight of him there, as you do, something always 
blinds me ! ’’ and the two old sinners laughed together at 
the thought of the devil’s litanies they recited in the church. 

“ But how to get to Beaumanoir.? I shall have to walk, 
as you did, Mere Malheur. It is a vile road, and I must 
take the by-way through the forest. It were worth my life to 
be seen on this visit,” said La Corriveau, conning on her 
fingers the difficulties of the by-path, which she was well 
acquainted with, however. 

“ There is a moon after nine, by which hour you can 
reach the wood of Beaumanoir,” observed the crone. 
“ Are you sure you know the way. Dame Dodier ? ” 

“ As well as the way into my gown ! I know an Indian 
Canotier who will ferry me across to Beauport, and say 
nothing. I dare not allow that prying knave, Jean le 
Nocher, or his sharp wife, to mark my movements.” 

“Well thought of. Dame Dodier, you are of a craft and 
subtlety to cheat Satan himself at a game of hide and 
seek 1 ” The crone looked with genuine admiration, 
almost worship, at La Corriveau as she said this, “ but I 
doubt he will find both of us at last. Dame, when we have 
got into our last corner.” 

“ Well, Vogue la Galere! ” exclaimed La Corriveau, 
starting up. “ Let it go as it will I I shall walk to Beau- 
manoir, and I shall fancy I wear golden garters and silver 
slippers to make the way easy and pleasant. But you must 
be hungry. Mere, with your long tramp. I have a supper 
prepared for you, so come and eat in the Devil’s name, or 
I shall be tempted to say grace, in Noinine Domini^ and 
choke you.” 

The two women went to a small table and sat down 
to a plentiful meal of such things as formed the dainties 
of persons of their rank of life. Upon the table stood the 
dish of sweetmeats which the thievish maid servant had 
brought to Mere Malheur with the groom’s story of the 


OUTVENOMS ALL THE WORMS OF NILE, 473 

conversation between Bigot and Varin, a story which 
could Angelique have got hold of it, would have stopped 
at once her frightful plot to kill the unhappy Caroline. 

I were a fool to tell her that story of the groom^s,” 
muttered La Corriveau to herself, “ and spoil the fairest 
experiment of the Aqua Tofana ever made, and ruin my 
own fortune, too ! I know a trick worth two of that,” and 
she laughed inwardly to herself, a laugh which was 
repeated in Hell and made merry the ghosts of Beatrice 
Spara, Exili and La Voisin. 

A bottle of brandy stood between La Corriveau and 
Mere Malheur, which gave zest to their repast, and they 
sat long exchanging vile thoughts in viler language, min- 
gled with ridicule, detraction and scandal of all their 
dupes and betters. 

All next day La Corriveau kept closely to the house, 
but she found means to communicate to Angelique, her 
intention to visit Beaumanoir that night. 

The news was grateful, yet strangely moving to Ang^l- 
ique j she trembled and turned pale, not for ruth but for 
doubt and dread of possible failure or discovery. 

She sent by an unknown hand to the house of Mere 
Malheur, a little basket containing a bouquet of roses so 
beautiful and fragrant that they might have been plucked 
in the garden of Eden. 

Angelique loved flowers, but her hands shook with a 
palsy of apprehension and an innate feeling of repugnance 
as she reflected on the purpose for which her beautiful 
roses were given. She only recovered her composure 
after throwing herself on a sofa and plunging headlong 
into the day dreams which now made up the sum of her 
existence. 

La Corriveau carried the basket into an inner chamber, 
a small room, the window of which never saw the sun, but 
opened against the close overhanging rock, which was so 
near that it might be touched with the hand. The dark 
damp wall of the cliff shed a gloomy obscurity in the room 
even at midday. 

The small black eyes of La Corriveau glittered like 
poniards as she opened the basket, and taking out the 
bouquet found attached to it by a ribbon, a silken purse, 
containing a number of glittering pieces of gold. She 
pressed the coins to her cheek, and even put them between 


474 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


her lips, to taste their sweetness, for money she loved 
beyond all things. The passion of her soul was avarice ; 
her wickedness took its direction from the love of money, 
and scrupled at no iniquity for the sake of it. 

She placed the purse carefully in her bosom, and took 
up the roses, regarding them with a strange look of admi- 
ration, as she muttered : They are beautiful, and they are 
sweet ! men would call them innocent ! they are like her 
who sent them, fair without as yet ; like her who is to 
receive them, fair within.’’ She stood reflecting for a few 
moments and exclaimed as she laid the bouquet upon the 
table : 

“ Angelique des Meloises, you send your gold and 
your roses to me because you believe me to be a worse 
demon than yourself, but you are worthy to be crowned 
to-night with these roses as Queen of Hell, and mistress 
of all the witches that ever met in Grand Sabbat, at the 
palace of Galienne, where Satan sits on a throne of 
gold ! ” 

La Corriveau looked out of the window and saw a cor- 
ner of the rock lit up with the last ray of the setting sun. 
She knew it was time to prepare for her journey. She 
loosened her long black and grey elfin locks, and let them 
fall dishevelled over her shoulders. Her thin cruel lips 
were drawn to a rigid line, and her eyes were filled with 
red fire, as she drew the casket of ebony out of her bosom 
and opened it with a reverential touch, as a devotee would 
touch a shrine of relics. She took out of it a small gilded 
vial of antique shape, containing a clear bright liquid, 
which, as she shook it up, seemed filled with a million 
sparks of fire. 

Before drawing the glass stopper of the vial. La Cor- 
riveau folded a handkerchief carefully over her mouth and 
nostrils, to avoid inhaling the volatile essence of its 
poisonous contents. Then, holding the bouquet with one 
hand at arms length, she sprinkled the glowing roses with 
the transparent liquid from the vial which she held in the 
other hand, repeating, in a low harsh tone, the formula of 
an ancient incantation, which was one of the secrets 
imparted to Antonio Exili by the terrible Beatrice Spara. 

La Corriveau repeated by rote, as she had learned from 
her mother, the ill-omened words, hardly knowing their 
meaning, beyond that they were something very potent, and 


QUOTH THE RAVEN: NEVERMORE I 


475 


very wicked, which had been handed down through 
generations of poisoners and witches from the times of 
heathen Rome : 

“ Hecaten Voco ! 

Voco Tisiphonem ! 

Spargens avernales aquas, 

Te morti devoveo, Te diris ago 1 ” 

The terrible drops of the Aqua Tofana glittered like 
dew on the glowing flowers, taking away in a moment all 
their fragrance, while leaving all their beauty unimpaired. 
The poison sank into the very hearts of the roses whence 
it breathed death from every petal and every leaf, leaving 
them fair as she who had sent them, but fatal to the 
approach of lip or nostril, fit emblems of her unpitying 
hate and remorseless jealousy. 

La Corriveau wrapped the bouquet in a medicated 
paper of silver tissue, which prevented the escape of the 
volatile death, and replacing the roses carefully in the 
basket, prepared for her departure to Beaumanoir. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

QUOTH THE RAVEN : ‘‘ NEVERMORE ! ” 

It was the eve of St. Michael. A quiet autumnal night 
brooded over the forest of Beaumanoir. The moon in 
her wane had risen late and struggled feebly among the 
broken clouds that were gathering slowly in the east, indica- 
tive of a storm. She shed a dim light through the glades 
and thickets just enough to discover a path where the 
dark figure of a woman made her way swiftly and cautious- 
ly towards the Chateau of the Intendant. 

She was dressed in the ordinary costume of a peasant 
woman and carried a small basket on her arm, which, had 
she opened it, would have been found to contain a candle 
and a bouquet of fresh roses, carefully covered with a pa- 
per of silver tissue, nothing more — an honest peasant 
woman would have had a rosary in her basket, but this was 
no honest peasant woman and she had none. 


476 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


The forest was very still, it was steeped in quietness. 
The rustling of the dry leaves under the feet of the woman 
was all she heard except when the low sighing of the wind, 
the sharp bark of a fox, or the shriek of an owl broke the 
silence for a moment, and all was again still. 

The woman looked watchfully round as she glided on- 
wards. The path was known to her, but not so familiarly 
as to prevent the necessity of stopping every few minutes 
to look about her and make sure she was right. 

It was long since she had travelled that way, and she 
was looking for a land-mark, a grey stone that stood some- 
where not far from where she was, and near which she 
knew that there was a footpath that led not directly to the 
Chateau but to the old deserted watchtower of Beaumanoir. 

That stone marked a spot not to be forgotten by her, 
for it was the memorial of a deed of wickedness now only 
remembered by herself and by God. La Corriveau cared 
nothing for the recollection. It was not terrible to her, 
and God made no sign ; but in his great book of account, 
of which the life of every man and woman forms a page, 
it was written down and remembered. 

On the secret tablets of our memory which is the book 
of our life, every thought, word and deed, good or evil, is 
written down, indelibly and for ever ! and the invisible pen 
goes on writing day after day, hour after hour, minute after 
minute, every thought even the idlest, every fancy the most 
evanescent, nothing is left out of our book of life which 
will be our record in judgment ! When that book is opened 
and no secrets are hid, what son or daughter of Adam is 
there who will not need to say ? God be merciful ! 

La Corriveau came suddenly upon the grey stone. It 
startled her, for its rude contour standing up in the pale 
moonlight, put on the appearance of a woman. She 
thought she was discovered, and she heard a noise ; but 
another glance reassured her. She recognized the stone, 
and the noise she had heard was only the scurring of a hare 
among the dry leaves. 

The hahitans held this spot to be haunted by the wail- 
ing spirit of a woman in a' grey robe, who had been poison- 
ed by a jealous lover. La Corriveau gave him sweetmeats 
of the manna of St. Nicholas which the woman ate from 
his hand and fell dead at his feet in this trysting place 
where they met for the last time. The man fled to the 


QUOTH THE RAVEN: NEVERMORE! 


477 


forest, hunted by a remorseful conscience, and died a re- 
tributive death. He fell sick and was devoured by wolves. 
La Corriveau alone of mortals held the terrible secret. 

La Corriveau gave a low laugh as she saw the pale 
outline of the woman resolve itself into the grey stone. 

The dead come not again ! ’’ muttered she, and if they 
do she will soon have a companion to share her midnight 
walks round the Chateau ! ’’ La Corriveau had no con- 
science, she knew not remorse, and would probably have 
felt no great fear had that pale spirit really appeared at 
that moment to tax her with wicked complicity in her 
murder. 

The clock of the Chateau struck twelve. Its reverber- 
ations sounded far into the nighty as La Corriveau emerged 
stealthily out of the forest, crouching on the shady side 
of the high garden hedges, until she reached the old watch 
tower, which stood like a dead sentinel at his post on the 
fl.ank of the Chateau. 

There was an open doorway, on each side of which lay 
a heap of fallen stones. This was the entrance into a 
square room, dark and yawning as a cavern. It was trav- 
ersed by one streak of moonshine which struggled through 
a grated window set in the thick wall. 

La Corriveau stood for a few moments looking intently 
into the gloomy ruin, then casting a sharp glance behind 
her, she entered. Tired with her long walk through the 
forest, she flung herself upon a stone seat to rest, and to 
collect her thoughts for the execution of her terrible mis- 
sion. 

The dogs of the Chateau barked vehemently, as if the 
very air bore some ominous taint ; but La Corriveau knew 
she was safe. They were shut up in the courtyard, and 
could not trace her to the tower. A harsh voice or two, 
and the sound of whips, presently silenced the barking 
dogs, and all was still again. 

She had got into the tower unseen and unheard. 

They say there is an eye that sees everything,’’ muttered 
she, “ and an ear that hears our very thoughts. If God 
sees and hears, he does nothing to prevent me from accom- 
plishing my end ; and he will not interfere to-night ! No, 
not for all the prayers she may utter, which will not be 
many more ! God— -if there be one — lets La Corriveau 
live, and will let the Lady of Beaumanoir die ! ” 


478 


THE 'CHIEN D'OR. 


There was a winding stair of stone, narrow and tor- 
tuous, in one corner of the tower. It led upwards to the 
joof and downwards to a deep vault which was arched and 
groined. Its heavy rough columns supported the tower 
above, and divided the vaults beneath. These vaults had 
formerly served as magazines for provisions and stores for 
the use of the occupants of the Chateau, upon occasions 
when they had to retire for safety from a sudden irruption 
of Iroquois. 

La Corriveau, after a short rest, got up with a quick, 
impatient movement. She went over to an arched door- 
way, upon which her eyes had been fixed for several min- 
utes. ‘‘ The way is down there,” she muttered, “ now for 
a light ! ” 

She found the entrance to the stair open ; she passed 
in, closing the door behind her, so that the glimmer might 
not be seen by any chance stroller, and struck a light. 
The reputation which the tower had of being haunted, 
made the servants very shy of entering it, even in the day- 
time ; and the man was considered bold indeed who came 
near it after dark. 

With her candle in her hand. La Corriveau descended 
slowly into the gloomy vault. It was a large cavern of 
stone, a very habitation of darkness, which seemed to 
swallow up the feeble light she carried. It was divided 
into three portions, separated by rough columns. 

A spring of water trickled in and trickled out of a great 
stone trough, ever full and overflowing with a soft tinkling 
sound, like a clepsydra measuring the movements of eter- 
nity. The cool, fresh, living water, diffused throughout 
the vaults an even, mild temperature the year round. The 
gardeners of the Chateau took advantage of this, and used 
the vault as a favorite store-room for their crops of fruit 
and vegetables for winter use in the chateau. 

La Corriveau went resolutely forward as one who knew 
what she sought and where to find it, and presently stood 
in front of a recess containing a wooden panel similar to 
that in the Chateau, and movable in the same manner. She 
considered it for some moments, muttering to herself as 
she held aloft the candle to inspect it closely and find the 
spring by which it was moved. 

La Corriveau had been carefully instructed by Mbre 
Malheur in every point regarding the mechanism of this 


QUOTH THE RAVEN: NEVERMORE ! 


479 


door. She had no difficulty in finding the secret of its 
working. A slight touch sufficed when the right place was 
known. She pressed it hard with her hand, the panel 
swung open and behind it gaped a dark narrow passage 
leading to the secret chamber of Caroline. 

She entered without hesitation, knowing whither it led. 
It was damp and stifling. Her candle burned dimmer 
and dimmer in the impure air of the long shut-up passage^ 
There were, however, no other obstacles in her way. The 
passage was unincumbered ; but the low arch, scarcely 
over her own height, seemed to press down upon her as 
she passed along, as if to prevent her progress. The fear- 
less, wicked heart bore her up ; nothing worse than herself 
could meet her; and she felt neither fear at what lay before 
her, nor remorse at what was behind. 

The distance to be traversed was not far, although it 
seemed to her impatience to be interminable. Mere Mal- 
heur, with her light heels, could once run through it in a 
minute, to a tryst in the old tower. La Corriveau was 
thrice that time in groping her way along it before she 
came to a heavy iron-ribbed door, set in a deep arch, which 
marked the end of the passage. 

That black, forbidding door was the dividing of light 
from darkness, of good from evil, of innocence from guilt. 
On one side of it, in a chamber of light, sat a fair girl, con- 
fiding, generous and deceived only through her excess of 
every virtue ; on the other, wickedness, fell and arttul, was 
approaching with stealthy footsteps through an unseen 
way, and stood with hand upraised to knock, but incapable 
of entering in, unless that unsuspecting girl removed the 
bar. 

Oh ! Caroline de St. Castin ! martyr to womanly love, 
and the victim of womanly hate, amid all the tossing 
thoughts that agitate your innocent breast, is there not one 
to suggest a fear or a suspicion of fear of the strange woman 
who comes in such mysterious fashion to the door of your 
last place of refuge except the grave 1 

Alas ! no ! Caroline sat waiting, counting the minutes 
one by one as the finger passed over the dial of the clock ; 
impatient, yet trembling, she knew not why, to hear the 
expected knock upon the fatal door. 

She had no suspicion of evil. Her guardian angel had 
turned aside to weep. Providence itself for the nonce 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


480 

seemed — but only seemed — to have withdrawn its care. It 
may be the sooner to bear this lost lamb into its fold of 
rest and peace, but not the less did it seem for ends in- 
scrutable, to have delivered her over to the craft and cruelty 
of her bitter enemy. 

As the hour of midnight approached, one sound after 
another died away in the Chateau. Caroline, who had sat 
counting the hours and watching the spectral moon, as it 
flickered among the drifting clouds, withdrew from the win- 
dow, with a trembling step, like one going to her doom. 

She descended to the secret chamber, where she had 
appointed to meet her strange visitor and hear from strange 
lips the story that would be told her. 

She attired herself with care, as a woman will in every 
extremity of life. Her dark raven hair was simply arranged, 
and fell in thick masses over her neck and shoulders. She 
put on a robe of soft snow white texture, and by an impulse 
she yielded to, but could not explain, bound her waist with 
a black sash, like a strain of mourning in a song of inno- 
cence. She wore no ornaments save a ring, the love gift 
of Bigot, which she never parted with, but wore with a 
morbid anticipation that its promises would one day be ful- 
filled. She clung to it as a talisman that would yet conjure 
away her sorrows, and it did ! but, alas ! in a way little 
anticipated by the constant girl ! A blast from hell was at 
hand to sweep away her young life, and with it, all her 
earthly troubles. 

She took up a guitar, mechanically as it were, and as 
her fingers wandered over the strings, a bar or two of the 
strain, sad as the sigh of a broken heart, suggested an old 
ditty she had loved formerly, when her heart was full of 
sunshine and happiness, when her fancy used to indulge 
in the luxury of melancholic musings, as every happy, sen- 
sitive and imaginative girl will do, as a counterpoise to her 
high-wrought feelings. 

In a low voice, sweet and plaintive as the breathings of 
an ^olian harp, Caroline sang her Minne-song : — 

“ A linnet sat upon a thorn 
At evening chime. 

Its sweet refrain fell like the rain 
Of summer time. 

Of summer time when roses bloomed, 

And bright above 


Q UO TH THE RA VEN:, “ NE VERMORE I ” 48 1 

A rainbow spanned my fairy land 
Of hope and love ! 

Of hope and love, O, Linnet ! cease 
Thy mocking theme ! 

I ne’er picked up the golden cup, 

In all my dream ! 

In all my dream I missed the prize 
Should have been mine ; 

And dreams wont die ! though fain would I, 

And make no sign ! ” 

The lamps burned brightly, shedding a cheerful light 
upon the landscapes and figures woven into the tapestry, 
behind which was concealed the back door that was to 
admit La Corriveau. 

It was oppressively still. Caroline listened with mouth 
and ears for some sound of approaching footsteps until her 
heart beat like the swift stroke of a hammer, as it sent the 
blood throbbing through her temples with a rush that 
almost overpowered her. 

She was alone, and lonely beyond expression. Down 
in these thick foundations no sound penetrated, to break 
the terrible monotony of the silence around her, except the 
dull solemn voice of the bell striking the hour of midnight. 

Caroline had passed a sleepless night after the visit of 
Mere Malheur ; sometimes tossing on her solitary couch ; 
sometimes starting up in terror. She rose and threw her- 
self despairingly upon her knees, calling on Christ to par- 
don her, and on the Mother of Mercies to plead for her, 
sinner that she was, whose hour of shame and punishment 
had come ! 

The mysterious letter brought by Mere Malheur, an- 
nouncing that her place of concealment was to be searched 
by the Governor, excited her liveliest apprehensions. But 
that faded into nothingness in comparison with the abso- 
lute terror that seized her at the thoughts of the speedy 
arrival of her father in the colony. 

Caroline, overwhelmed with a sense of shame and con- 
trition, pictured to herself, in darkest colors, the anger of 
her father at the dishonor she had brought upon his unsul- 
lied name. 

She sat down, she rose up, she walked her solitary 
chamber, and knelt passionately on the floor, covering her 
face with her hands, crying to the Madonna for pity and 
protection. 


31 


482 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


Poor self-accuser ! The hardest and most merciless 
wretch who ever threw stones at a woman, was pitiful in 
comparison with Caroline’s inexorable condemnation of 
herself. 

Yet her fear was not on her own account. She could 
have kissed her father’s hand and submitted humbly to 
death itself, if he chose to inflict it ; but she trembled most 
at the thought of a meeting between the fiery Baron and 
the haughty Intendant. One or the other, or both of them, 
she felt instinctively, must die, should the Baron discover 
that Bigot had been the cause of the ruin of his idolized 
child. 

She trembled for both, and prayed God that she might 
die in their* stead, and the secret of her shame never be 
known to her fond father. 

A dull sound, like footsteps shuffling in the dark pas- 
sage behind the arras, struck her ear ; she knew her 
strange visitant was come. She started up, clasping her 
hands hard together as she listened, wondering who and 
what like she might be ? She suspected no harm, for who 
could desire to harm her who had never injured a living 
being Yet there she stood on the one side of that black* 
door of doom, while the calamity of her life stood on the 
other side like a tigress ready to spring through. Caroline 
thought nought of this, but rather listened with a sense of 
relief to the stealthy footfalls that came slowly along the 
hidden -passage. - Perhaps'it is well that for the most part 
the catastrophies and son'ows of life overtake us without 
long warning. Life would be intolerable had we to fore- 
see as well as to endure the pains of it ! 

A low knock twice repeated on the thick door behind 
the arras, drew her at once to her feet. She trembled 
violently as she lifted up the tapestry, something rushed 
through her mind telling her not to do it ! Happy had i*- 
been for her never to have opened that fatal door ! 

She hesitated for a moment, but the thought of her 
father and the impending search of the Chateau, flashed 
suddenly upon her mind. The visitant, whoever she might 
be, professed to be a friend, and could, she thought, have 
no motive to harm her. 

Caroline, with a sudden impulse, pushed aside the 
fastening of the door, and uttering the words Dieic ! protege 
moi ! stood face to face with La Corriveau, 


Q UO TH THE RA VEN: NE VERMORE I ” 483 

The bright lamp shone full on the t alb figure of the 
strange visitor, and Caroline, whose fears had anticipated 
some uncouth sight of terror, was surprised to see only a 
woman dressed in the simple garb of a peasant, with a 
little basket on her arm, enter quietly through the secret 
door. 

The eyes of La Corriveau glared for a moment with 
fiendish curiosity upon the young girl who stood before 
her like one of God’s angels. She measured her from head 
to foot, noted every fold of her white robe, every flexure of 
her graceful form, and drank in the whole beauty and 
innocence of her aspect with a feeling of innate spite, at 
ought so fair and good. On her thin cruel lips there played 
a smile as the secret thought hovered over them in an 
unspoken whisper, — She will make a pretty corpse ! 
Brinyilliers and La Voisin never mingled drink for a fairer 
victim than I will crown with roses to-night ! ” 

Caroline retreated a few steps, frightened and trembling, 
as she encountered the glittering eyes and sinister smile 
of La Corriveau. The woman observed it, and instantly 
changed her mien, to one more natural and sympathetic ; 
for she comprehended fully the need of disarming suspicion 
and of winning the confidence of her victim to enable her 
more surely to destroy her. 

Caroline, reassured by a second glance at her visitor, 
thought she had been mistaken in her first impression. 
The peasant’s dress, the harmless basket, the quiet man- 
ner assumed by La Corriveau as she stood in a respectful 
attitude, as if waiting to be spoken to, banished all fears 
from the mind of Caroline, and left her only curious to 
know the issue of this mysterious visit. 

What La Corriveau had planned was not a deed of 
violence, although she had brought with her an Italian 
stiletto of sharpest steel, the same which Beatrice Spara 
had left sticking in the heart of Beppa Farinata whom 
she found in the chamber of Antonio Exili. But it was 
only at the last extremity La Corriveau meant to resort 
to its use. She had brought it more to protect her own 
life if in danger, than to take that of her victim. 

She had resolved on a quieter and surer plan to kill 
the innocent, unsuspecting girl. She would visit her as a 
friend, a harmless peasant woman, moved only for her safety. 
She would catch her attention in a net-work of lies, she 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


484 

would win her confidence by affected sympathy, cheer her 
with bright hopes, and leave her dead with the bouquet of 
roses like a bridal gift in her hand. No one should know 
whence came the unseen stroke. No one should suspect 
it, and the Intendant who would not dare in any event to 
promulgate a syllable of her death, nay, he should himself 
believe, that Caroline de St. Castin had died by the visi- 
tation of God. 

It was an artful scheme, wickedly conceived and mer- 
cilessly carried out, with a burst of more than its intended 
atrocity. La Corriveau erred in one point. She did not 
know the intensity of the fires that raged in her own evil 
bosom. 

Providence, for some inscrutable end, seemed for the 
moment to have withdrawn its care from the secret cham- 
ber of Beaumanoir, and left this hapless girl to die by 
blackest treachery unseen and unknown, but not forgotten 
by those who loved her and who would have given their 
lives for her safety. 


CHAPTER -XLV. 

A DEED WITHOUT A NAME. 

Caroline, profoundly agitated, rested her hands on the 
bacK of a chair for support, and regarded La Corriveau 
for some moments without speaking. She tried to frame a 
question of some introductory kind, but could not. But 
the pent-up feelings came out at last in a gush straight 
from the heart. 

‘‘ Did you write this ? ’’ said she, falteringly, to La Cor- 
riveau, and holding out the letter so mysteriously placed in 
her hand by Mere Malheur. “ O, tell me, is it true.^ ’’ 

La Corriveau did not reply except by a sign of assent, 
and standing upright waited for further question. 

Caroline looked at her again, wonderingly. That a 
simple peasant woman could have indited such a letter, or 
could have known ought respecting her father, seemed 
incredible. 


A DEED WITHOUT A NAME. 


485 

In heaven^s name tell me who and what you are ! ’’ 
exclaimed she. “ I never saw you before ! ’’ 

“You have seen me before!’’ replied La Corriveau, 
quietly. 

Caroline looked at her amazedly, but did not recognize 
her. La Corriveau continued : “ Your father is the Baron 
de St. Castin, and you, lady, would rather die than endure 
that he should find you in the Chateau of Beaumanoir. Ask 
me not how I know these things, you will not deny their 
truth ; as for myself, I pretend not to be other than I seem.” 

“ Your dress is that of a peasant woman, but your 
language is not the language of one. You are a lady in 
disguise visiting me in this strange fashion ! ” said Caroline, 
puzzled more than ever. Her thoughts at this instant 
reverted to the Intendant. “Why do you come here in 
this secret manner ? ” asked she. 

“ I do not appear other than I am,” replied La Corri- 
veau, evasively, “and I come in this secret manner 
because I could get access to you in no other way.” 

“ You said that I had seen you before; I have no knowl- 
edge or recollection of it,” remarked Caroline, looking^ 
fixedly at her. 

“Yes! you saw me once in the wood of St. Valier. 
Do you remember the peasant woman who was gathering 
mandrakes when you passed with your Indian guides, and 
who gave you milk to refresh you on the way 1 ” 

This seemed like a revelation to Caroline ; she remem- 
bered the incident and the woman. La Corriveau had 
carefully put on the same dress she had worn that day. 

“ I do recollect ! ” replied Caroline, as a feeling of con- 
fidence welled up like a living spring within her. She 
offered La Corriveau her hand. “ I thank you gratefully,” 
said she; “you were indeed kind to me that day in the 
forest, and I am sure you must mean kindly by me now.” 

La Corriveau took the offered hand, but did not press 
it. She could not for the life of her, for she had not heart 
to return the pressure of a human hand. She saw her 
advantage, however, and kept it through the rest of the 
brief interview. 

“ I mean you kindly, lady ! ” replied she, softening her 
harsh voice as much as she could to a tone of sympathy, 
“ and I come to help you out of your trouble.” 

For a moment that cruel smile played on her thin lips 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


486 

again, but she instantly repressed it. ‘‘ I am only a peas- 
ant woman,” repeated she again, “ but I bring you a little 
gift in my basket to show my good will.” She put her 
hand in her basket but did not withdraw it at the moment, 
as Caroline, thinking little of gifts but only of her father, 
exclaimed : 

“ I am sure you mean well, but you have more import- 
ant things to tell me of than a gift. Your letter spoke of 
my father. What, in God’s name, have you to tell me of my 
father ” 

La Corriveau withdrew her hand from the basket and 
replied, ‘‘He is on his Way to New France in search of 
you. He knows you are here, lady.” 

“ In Beaumanoir? O, it cannot be ! No one knows I 
am here ! ” exclaimed Caroline, clasping her hands in an 
impulse of alarm. 

“ Yes, more than you suppose, lady, else how did I 
know ? Your father comes with the king’s letters to take 
you hence and return with you to Acadia or to France.” 
La Corriveau placed her hand in her basket, but withdrew 
it again. It was not yet time. 

“God help me, then !” exclaimed Caroline, shrinking 
with terror. “ But the Intendant ; what said you of the 
Intendant ? ” 

“ He is ordered de par le Roy to give you up to your 
father, and he will do so if you be not taken away sooner by 
the governor.” Caroline was nigh fainting at these words. 

“ Sooner ! how sooner.^ ” asked she, faintly. 

“ The Governor has received orders from the king to 
search Beaumanoir from roof to foundation stone, and he 
may come to-morrow, lady, and find you here.” 

The words of La Corriveau struck like sharp arrows 
into the soul of the hapless girl. 

“ God help me, then ! ” exclaimed she, clasping her 
hands in agony. “ O, that I were dead and buried where 
only my Judge could find me at the last day, for I have no 
hope, no claim upon man’s mercy! The world will stone 
me, dead or living ! and alas I I deserve my fate. It is not 
hard to die, but it is hard to bear the shame which will 
not die with me 1 ” 

She cast her eyes despairingly upward, as she uttered 
this, and did not'see the bitter smile return to the lips of 
La Corriveau, who stood upright, cold and immovable be 


A DEED WITHOUT A NAME. 487 

fore her, with fingers twitching nervously, like the claws 
of a Fury, in her little basket, while she whispered to her- 
self, ‘‘ Is it time, is it time ? ’’ but she took not out the 
bouquet yet. 

Caroline came still nearer with a sudden change of 
thought, and clutching the dress of La Corriveau, cried out, 
“ O woman, is this all true ? How can you know all this 
to be true of me, and you a stranger } ’’ 

“ I know it of a certainty, and I am come to help you. 
I may not tell you by whom I know it ; perhaps the In- 
tendant himself has sent me,’^ replied La Corriveau,. with 
a sudden prompting of the spirit of evil who stood beside 
her. ‘‘ The Intendant will hide you from this search, if 
there be a sure place of concealment in New France.’^ 

The reply shot a ray of hope across the mind of the 
agonized girl. She bounded with a sense of deliverance. 
It seemed so natural that Bigot, so deeply concerned in 
her concealment, should have sent this peasant woman to 
take her away, that she could not reflect at the moment hOw 
unlikely it was, nor could she, in her excitement, read the 
lie upon the cold face of La Corriveau. 

She seized the explanation with the grasp of despair, 
as a sailor seizes the one plank which the waves have 
washed within his reach, when all else has sunk in the 
seas around him. 

“ Bigot sent you ? ’’ exclaimed Caroline, raising her 
hands, while her pale face was suddenly suffused with a 
flush of joy. Bigot sent you to conduct me hence to a 
sure place of concealment? O, blessed messenger! I 
believe you now.” Her excited imagination outflow even 
the inventions of La Corriveau. “ Bigot has heard of my 
peril, and sent you here at midnight to take me away to 
your forest home until this search be over. Is it not so ? 
Frangois Bigot did not forget me in my danger, even while 
he was away ! ” 

“Yes, lady, the Intendant sent me to conduct you to 
St. Valier, to hide you there in a sure retreat until the 
search be over,” replied La Corriveau, calmly eyeing her 
from head to foot. 

“ It is like him 1 He is not unkind when left to him- 
self. It is so like the Frangois Bigot I once knew 1 But 
tell me, woman, what said he further ? Did you see him, 
did you hear him ? Tell me all he said to you.” 


488 


THE CHIEN D^OR. 


“ I saw him, lady, and heard him,” replied La Corriveau, 
taking the bouquet in her fingers, ‘‘ but he said little more 
than I have told you. The Intendant is a stern man, and 
gives few words, save commands, to those of my condition. 
But he bade me convey to you a token of his love ; you 
would know its meaning, he said. I have it safe, lady, in 
this basket — shall I give it to you ? ” 

‘‘A token of his love, of Francois Bigot’s love to me ! 
Are you a woman and could delay giving it so long ? why 
gave you it not at first ? I should not have doubted you 
then. O give it to me, and be blessed as the welcomest 
messenger that ever came to Beaumanoir ! ” 

La Corriveau held her hand a moment more in the 
basket. Her dark features turned a shade paler, although 
not a nerve quivered as she plucked out a parcel carefully 
wrapped in silver tissue ; she slipped off the cover, and 
held at arms length towards the eager, expectant girl, the 
fatal bouquet of roses, beautiful to see as the fairest that 
ever filled the lap of Flora. 

Caroline clasped it with both hands, exclaiming in a 
voice of exultation, while every feature radiated with joy, 
“ It is the gift of God, and the return of Francois’ love ! 
All will yet be well ! ” 

‘‘ She pressed the glowing flowers to her lips with pas- 
sionate kisses, breathed once or twice their mortal poison, 
and suddenly throwing back her head with her dark eyes 
fixed on vacancy, but holding the fatal bouquet fast in her 
hands, fell stone dead at the feet of La Corriveau ! 

A weird laugh, terrible and unsuppressed, rang round 
the walls of the secret chamber, where the lamps burned 
bright as ever, but the glowing pictures of the tapestry 
never changed a feature. Was it not strange that even 
those painted men should not have cried out at the sight 
of so pitiless a murder ? 

Caroline lay amid them all, the flush of joy still on her 
cheek, the smile not yet vanished from her lips. A pity 
for all the world, could it have seen her ; but in that lonely 
chamber no eye pitied her. 

But now a more cruel thing supervened. The sight of 
Caroline’s lifeless form instead of pity or remorse, roused 
all the innate furies that belonged to the execrable race of 
La Corriveau. The blood of generations of poisoners and 
assassins boiled and rioted in her veins, The spirits of 


A DEED WITHOUT A NAME, 


489 

Beatrice Spara and of La Voisin inspired her with new 
fury. She was at this moment like a pantheress that has 
brought down her prey and stands over it to rend it in 
pieces. 

Caroline lay dead, dead beyond all doubt, never to be 
resuscitated, except in the resurrection of the just. La Cor- 
riveau bent over her and felt her heart ; it was still. No 
sign of breath flickered on lip or nostril. 

The poisoner knew she was dead, but something still 
woke her suspicions as with a new thought she drew back 
and looked again at the beauteous form before her. Sud- 
denly, as if to make assurance doubly sure, she plucked 
the sharp Italian stiletto from her bosom and with a firm, 
heavy hand, plunged it twice into the body of the lifeless 
girl. “ If there be life there,” she said, “ it too shall die ! 
La Corriveau leaves no work of hers half done ! ” 

A faint trickle of blood in red threads, ran down the 
snow white vestment, and that was all ! The heart had 
forever ceased to beat, and the blood to circulate. The 
golden bowl was broken, and the silver cord of life loosed 
forever, and yet this last indignity would have recalled 
the soul of Caroline, could she have been conscious of it. 
But all was well with her now ! not in the sense of the 
last joyous syllables she spoke in life, but in a higher, 
holier sense, as when God interprets our words and not 
men, all was well with her now ! 

She had got peace now, she slept in her beauty and 
innocence as one waiting in a happy dream to be carried 
off by a flight of angelic messengers, to that only heaven 
of rest, which had lately been so often revealed to her in 
dreams and visions at the foot of the cross. 

The passage of the dark water had been short, perhaps 
bitter, perhaps sweet, God only knows how sweet or how 
bitter that passage is ! We only know that it is dark and 
looks bitter, but whether sweet or bitter, the black river 
must be traversed alone, alone by every one of us 1 A 
dark journey away from the bright sun and the abodes of 
living men ! Happy is he who can take with him the staff 
of faith to support him in the solitary ford where no help 
is more from man ! Happ}^ she who can carry love in 
death and meet death in love, for her love goes with her 
like a lamp shining on the way of the faithful spirit which 
returns to God. 


490 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


The gaunt, iron visaged woman knelt down upon her 
knees, gazing with unshrinking eyes upon the face of her 
victim, as if curiouly marking the effect of a successful ex- 
periment of the Aqua Tofana. 

It was the first time she had ever dared to administer 
that subtle poison in the fashion of La Borgia. 

The Aqua Tofana does its work like a charm ! ’’ mut- 
tered she. “ That vial was compounded by Beatrice Spara, 
and is worthy of her skill and more sure than her stiletto ! 
I was frantic to use that weapon, for no purpose than to 
redden my hands with the work of a low bravo ! ’’ 

A few drops of blood were on the hand of La Cor- 
riveau. She wiped them impatiently upon the garment 
of Caroline, where it left the impress of her fingers upon the 
snowy muslin. No pity for her pallid victim, who lay with 
open eyes looking dumbly upon her, no remorse for her 
act touched the stony heart of La Corriveau. 

The clock of the chateau struck one. The solitary 
stroke of the bell reverberated like an accusing voice 
through the house, but failed to awake one sleeper to a 
discovery of the black tragedy that had just taken place 
under its roof. 

That sound had often struck sadly upon the ear of 
Caroline, as she prolonged her vigil of prayer through the 
still watches of the night. Her ear was dull enough now 
to all earthly sound ! But the toll of the bell reached 
the ear of La Corriveau, rousing her to the need of im- 
mediately effecting her escape, now that her task was 
done. 

She sprang up and looked narrowly round the chamber. 
She marked with envious malignity the luxury and magnifi- 
cence of its adornments. Upon a chair lay her own letter 
sent to Caroline by the hands of Mere Malheur. La Corri- 
veau snatched it up. It was jvhat she sought. She tore it in 
pieces and threw the fragments from her; but with a sudden 
thought, as if not daring to leave even the fragments upon 
the floor, she gathered them up hastily and put them in her 
basket with the bouquet of roses which she wrested from 
the dead fingers of Caroline, in order to carry it away and 
scatter the fatal flowers in the forest. 

She pulled open the drawers of the escritoire to search 
for money, but finding none, was too wary to carry off 
ought else. The temptation lay sore upon her to carrj 


A DEED WITHOUT A iVAME. 


491 


away the ring from the finger of Caroline. She drew it off 
the pale wasted finger, but a cautious consideration re- 
strained her. She put it on again, and would not take it. 

“ It would only lead to discovery ! muttered she. “ I 
must take nothing but myself, and what belongs to me 
away from. Beaumanoir, and the sooner the better ! ” 

La Corriveau with her basket again upon her arm, turn- 
ed to give one last look of fiendish satisfaction at the 
corpse which lay like a dead angel slain in God^s battle. 
The bright lamps were glaring full upon her still beautiful 
but sightless eyes, which wide open looked, even in death, 
reproachfully, yet forgivingly, upon their murderess. 

Something startled La Corriveau in that look. She 
turned hastily away, and relighting her candle passed 
through the dark archway of the secret door, forgetting to 
close it after her, and retraced her steps along the stone 
passage until she came to the watch tower where she dashed 
out her light. 

Creeping round the tower in the dim moonlight, she 
listened long and anxiously at door and window to dis- 
cover if all was still about the Chateau. Not a sound was 
heard but the water of the little brook gurgling in its pebbly 
bed, which seemed to be all that was awake on this night of 
death. 

La Corriveau emerged cautiously from the tower. She 
crept like a guilty thing under the shadow of the hedge, 
and got away unperceived by the same road she had come. 
She glided like a dark spectre through the forest of Beau- 
manoir, and returned to the city to tell Angelique des 
Meloises that the arms of the Intendant were now empty 
and ready to clasp her as his bride ; that her rival was 
dead, and she had put herself under bonds forever to La 
Corriveau as the price of innocent blood. 

La Corriveau reached the city in the grey of the morn- 
ing : a thick fog lay like a winding sheet upon the face 
of nature. The broad river, the lofty rocks, every object, 
great and small, were hidden from view. 

To the intense satisfaction of La Corriveau, the fog 
concealed her return to the house of Mere Malheur, whence 
after a brief repose, and with a command to the old crone 
to ask no questions yet, she sallied forth again to carry to 
Angelique the welcome news that her rival was dead. 

No one observed La Corriveau as she passed in her 


492 


THE CHIEN HQ R, 


peasant dress through the misty streets, which did not 
admit of an object being discerned ten paces off. 

Angelique was up. She had not gone to bed that 
night, and sat feverishly on the watch expecting the arrival 
of La Corriveau. 

She had counted the minutes of the silent hours of the 
night as they passed by her in a terrible panorama. She 
pictured to her imagination the successive scenes of the 
tragedy which was being accomplished at Beaumanoir. 

The hour of midnight culminated over her head, and 
looking out of her window at the black distant hills in the 
recesses of which she knew lay the chateau, her agitation 
grew intense. She knew at that hour La Corriveau must 
be in the presence of her victim. Would she kill her } Was 
she about it now ? The thought fastened on Angelique 
like a wild beast, and would not let go. She thought of 
the Intendant and was filled with hope : she thought of the 
crime of murder and shrunk now that it was being done. 

Angelique was not wholly bad, far from it. Her reck 
less ambition, hot passions, and cold heart had led her 
blindly where.she now found herself, the principal in a deed 
of murder, which, by no subterfuge could she now conceal 
from herself, she was more guilty of, than the wicked in- 
strument she had made use of. 

All night long had she tossed and disquieted herself in 
an agony of conflicting emotions. The thought of the murder 
was not absent for one moment from her mind. By turns 
she justified it, repented of it, hoped for it, condemned it, 
and wished for it again ! Believing it done, she wished 
it undone. Fearing it undone, she was ready to curse 
La Corriveau and her stars that it was not done ! Her 
mind was like water, ready to rush through any floodgate 
that chance opened to her. But no gate opened except 
the one she had deliberately put into the keeping of La 
Corriveau ! 

It was in this mood she waited and watched for the 
return of her bloody messenger. She heard the cautious 
foot on the stone steps. She knew by a sure instinct whose 
it was, and rushed down to admit her. 

They met at the door, and without a word spoken, one 
eager glance of Angelique at the dark face of La Corri- 
veau, drank in the whole fatal story. Caroline de St. 
Castin was dead ! Her rival in the love of the Intendan/ 


A DEED WITHOUT A NAME. 


493 


was beyond all power of rivalry now ! The lofty doors of 
ambitious hope stood open : what ! to admit the queen of 
beauty and of society? No! but a murderess who would 
be for ever haunted with the fear of justice 1 It seemed at 
this moment as if the lights had all gone out in the palaces 
and royal halls, where her imagination had so long run 
riot, and she saw only dark shadows, and heard inarticu- 
late sounds of strange voices babbling in her ear. It was 
the unspoken words of her own troubled thoughts and the 
terrors newly awakened in her soul ! 

Angelique seized the hand of La Corriveau not with- 
out a shudder. She drew her hastily up to her chamber 
and thrust her into a chair. Placing both hands upon the 
shoulders of La Corriveau she looked wildly in her face, ex- 
claiming in a half exultant, half piteous tone : ‘‘Is it done ? 
Is it really done ? I read it in your eyes 1 I know you 
have done the deed ! O 1 La Corriveau 1 

The grim countenance of the woman relaxed into a 
half smile of scorn and surprise at the unexpected weakness 
which she instantly noted in Angelique’s manner. 

“ Yes 1 It is done ! replied she, coldly, “ and it is well 
done ! But, by the manna of St. Nicholas 1 ’’ exclaimed 
she, starting from the chair and drawing her gaunt fig- 
ure up to its full height, while her black eyes shot daggers, 
“ you look. Mademoiselle, as if you repented its being 
done ! Do you ? 

“ Yes 1 No ! No, not now 1 replied Angelique, touched 
as with a hot iron. “ I will not repent now it is done 1 
that were folly, needless, dangerous, now it is done 1 But 
is she dead ? Did you wait to see if she were really dead ? 
People look dead sometimes and are not I Tell me truly, 
and conceal nothing 1 ” 

“ La Corriveau does not her work by halves. Made- 
moiselle, neither do you; only you talk of repentance 
after it is done, I do not ! that is all the difference 1 Be 
satisfied ; The lady of Beaumanoir is dead I I made doubly 
sure of that, and deserve a double reward from you 1 ’’ 

“ Reward ! You shall have all you crave ! But what a 
secret between you and me I ” Angelique looked at La 
Corriveau as if this thought now struck her for the first 
time. She was in this woman’s power. She shivered from 
head to foot. “ Your reward for this night’s work is here,” 
faltered she, placing her hand over a small box. She did not 


494 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


touch it, it seemed as if it would burn her. It was heavy 
with pieces of gold. They are uncounted,” continued 
she. ‘‘ Take it, it is all yours ! ” 

La Corriveau snatched the box off the table, and held 
it to her bosom. Angelique continued, in a monotonous 
tone, as one conning a lesson by rote: Use it prudently. 
Do not seem to the world to be suddenly rich ; it might be 
inquired into. I have thought of everything during the 
past night, and I remember I had to tell you that when I 
gave you the gold ! Use it prudently ! Something else, 
too, I was to tell you, but I think not of it at this moment.” 

“ Thanks, and no thanks. Mademoiselle ! ” replied La 
Corriveau in a hard tone. “ Thanks for the reward so fully 
earned. No thanks for your faint heart that robs me of 
my well earned meed of applause for a work done so artis- 
tically, and perfectly, that La Brinvilliers, of La Borgia her- 
self, might envy me, a humble paysanne of St. Valier ! ” 

La Corriveau looked proudly up as she said this, for 
she felt herself to be anything but a humble paysanne. 
She nourished a secret pride in her heart over the perfect 
success of her devilish skill in poisoning. 

‘ “ I give you whatever praise you desire, ” replied An- 
gelique, mechanically. “ But you have not told me how it 
was done.” “Sit down again !” continued she, with a 
touch of her imperative manner, “ and tell me all and 
every incident of what you have done.” 

“ You will not like to hear it ! Better be content with 
the knowledge that your rival was a dangerous and a 
beautiful one.” Angelique looked up at this. “ Better be 
content to know that she is dead, without asking anymore.” 

“ No ! you shall tell me everything. I cannot rest 
unless I know all 1 ” 

“ Nor after you do know all will you rest ! ” replied 
La Corriveau, slightingly, for she despised the evident 
trepidation of Angelique. 

“No matter! you shall tell me. I am calm now.” 
Angelique made a great effort to appear calm while she 
listened to the tale of tragedy in which she had played so 
deep a part. 

La Corriveau observing that the gust of passion was 
blown over, sat down in the chair opposite Angelique, and 
placing one hand on the knee of her listener as if to ho]d 
her fast, began the terrible recital. 


A DEED WITHOUT A NAME. 


495 


A flood of words, pent up in her bosom, sought for 
utterance to a listening, sympathetic ear. La Corriveau was 
a woman in that respect ; and, although usually moody and 
silent, a great occasion made her pour out her soul in 
torrents of speech like fiery lava. She spoke powerfully and 
terribly. 

She gave Angelique a graphic, minute, and not untrue 
account of all she had done at Beaumanoir, dwelling witf 
fierce unction on the marvellous and sudden effects of the 
Aqua Tofana^ not sparing one detail of the beauty and 
innocent looks of her victim ; and repeating, with a mock- 
ing laugh, the deceit she had practised upon her with 
regard to the bouquet, as a gift from the Intendant. 

Angeliqiie listened to the terrible tale, drinking it in 
with eyes, mouth, and ears. Her countenance changed to 
a mask of ugliness, wonderful in one by nature so fair to 
see. Cloud followed cloud over her face and eyes as the 
dread recital went on, and her imagination accompanied it 
with vivid pictures of every phase of the diabolical crime. 

When La Corriveau described the presentation of the 
bouquet as a gift of Bigot, and the deadly sudden effect 
which followed its joyous acceptance, the thoughts of Caro- 
line in her white robe, stricken as by a thunderbolt, shook 
Angelique with terrible emotion. But when La Corriveau, 
coldly and with a bitter spite at her softness, described 
with a sudden gesticulation, and eyes piercing her through 
and through, the strokes of the poignard upon the lifeless 
body of her victim, Angelique sprang up, clasped her hands 
together, and, with a cry of woe, fell senseless upon the 
floor. 

“ She is useless now ! ’’ said La Corriveau, rising and 
spurning Angelique with her foot. I deemed she had 
courage to equal her wickedness. She is but a woman 
after all — doomed to be the slave of some man through 
life, while aspiring to command all men ! It is not of such 
flesh that La Corriveau is made ! ’’ 

La Corriveau stood a few moments, reflecting what was 
best to be done. 

All things considered, she decided to leave Angelique 
to come to of herself, while she made the best of her way 
back to the house of Mere Malheur, with the intention which 
she carried out, of returning to St. Valier with her infa- 
mous reward that very day. 


496 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

‘‘let’s talk of graves and worms and epitaphs.” 

A bout the hour that La Corriveau emerged from the 
gloomy woods of Beauport, on her return to the city, 
the night of the murder of Caroline, two horsemen were 
battering at full speed on the highway that led to Charle- 
bourg. Their dark figures were irrecognizable in the dim 
moonlight. They rode fast and silent, like men having 
important business before them, which demanded haste ; 
business which both fully understood and cared not now to 
talk about. 

And so it was. Bigot and Cadet, after the exchange of 
a few words about the hour of midnight, suddenly left the 
wine, the dice, and the gay company at the palace, and 
mounting their horses rode, unattended by groom or valet, 
in the direction of Beaumanoir. 

Bigot, under the mask of gaiety and indifference, had 
felt no little alarm at the tenor of the royal despatch, and 
at the letter of the Marquise de Pompadour concerning 
Caroline de St. Castin. 

The proximate arrival of Caroline’s father in the colony 
was a circumstance ominous of trouble. The Baron was 
no trifler, and would as soon choke a prince as a beggar, to 
revenge an insult to. his personal honor or the honor of his 
house. 

Bigot cared little for that, however. The Intendant 
was no coward, and could brazen a thing out with any man 
alive. But there was one thing which he knew he could not 
brazen out or fight out, or do anything but miserably fail 
in, should it come to the question. He had boldly and 
wilfully lied at the Governor’s council table — sitting as the 
King’s councillor among gentlemen of honor — when he 
declared that he knew not the hiding-place of Caroline de 
St. Castin. It would cover him with eternal disgrace, as a 
gentleman, to be detected in such a flagrant falsehood. 
It would ruin him as a courtier in the favor of the great 
Marquise, should she discover that, in spite of his denials 


LETS TALK OF GRAVES^ ETC. 


497 

of the fact, he had harbored and concealed the missing 
lady in his own chateau ! 

Bigot was sorely perplexed over this turn of affairs 
He uttered a thousand curses upon all concerned in it, 
excepting upon Caroline herself, for although vexed at her 
coming to him at all, he could not find it in his heart to 
curse her. But cursing or blessing availed nothing now. 
Time was pressing, and he must act. 

That Caroline would be sought after in every nook and 
corner of the land, he knew full well, from the character 
of La Come St. Luc, and of her father. His own chateau 
would not be spared in the general search, and he doubted 
if the secret chamber would remain a secret from the keen 
eyes of these men. He surmised that others knew of its 
existence besides himself ; old servitors, and women who 
had passed in and out of it in times gone by. Dame 
Tremblay, who did know of it, was not to be trusted in a 
great temptation. She was in heart the charming Jose- 
phine still, and could be bribed or seduced by any one 
who bid high enough for her. 

Bigot had no trust whatever in human nature. He felt 
he had no guarantee against a discovery, farther than 
interest or fear barred the door against inquiry. He could 
not rely for a moment upon the inviolability of his own 
house. La Come St. Luc would demand to search, and 
he, bound by his declarations of noncomplicity in the 
abduction of Caroline, could offer no reason for refusal 
without rousing instant suspicion, and La Come was too 
sagacious not to fasten upon the remotest trace of Caro- 
line, and follow it up to a complete discovery. 

She could not, therefore, remain longer in the chateau 
— this was absolute, and he must, at whatever cost and 
whatever risk, remove her to a fresh place of concealment, 
until the storm blew over, or some other means of escape 
from the present difficulty offered themselves in the chap- 
ter of accidents, which Bigot had more faith in than in 
any chapter of the Old or New Testament, which only 
taught him to do right and trust God. 

In accordance with this design. Bigot, under pretence of 
business, had gone off the very next day after the meeting 
of the Governor’s Council, in the direction of the Three 
Rivers, to arrange with a band of Montagnais, whom he 
could rely upon, for the reception of Caroline, in the dis' 

32 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


498 

guise of an Indian girl, with instructions to remove their 
wigwams immediately and take her off with them to the 
wild remote valley of the St. Maurice. 

The old Indian chief, eager ’ to oblige the Intendant, 
had assented willingly to his proposal, promising the gen- 
tlest treatment of the lady, and a silent tongue concerning 
her. 

Bigot was impressive in his commands upon these 
points, and the chief pledged his faith upon them, delight- 
ed beyond measure by the promise of an ample supply of 
powder, blankets, and provisions for his tribe, while the 
Intendant added an abundance of all such delicacies as 
could be forwarded, for the use and comfort of the lady. 

To carry out this scheme without observation. Bigot 
needed the help of a trusty friend, one whom he could 
thoroughly rely upon, to convey Caroline secretly away 
from Beaumanoir, and place her in the keeping of the 
Montagnais, as well as to see to the further execution of 
his wishes for her concealment and good treatment. 

Bigot had many friends, — men living on his bounty, 
who ought only to have been too happy to obey his slight- 
est wishes — ^friends bound to him by disgraceful secrets, 
and common interests, and pleasures. But he could trust 
none of them with the secret of Caroline de St. Castin. 

He felt a new and unwonted delicacy in regard to her. 
Her name was dear to him, her fame even was becoming 
dearer. To his own surprise it troubled him now, as it 
had never troubled him before. 'He would not have her 
name defiled in the mouths of such men as drank his wine 
daily and nightly, and disputed the existence of any virtue 
in woman. 

Bigot ground his teeth as he muttered to himself — 

“ They might make a mock of whatever other woman 
they pleased. He, himself, could out-do them all in coarse 
ribaldry of the sex, but they should not make a mock, and 
flash obscene jests at the mention of Caroline de St. 
Castin ! They should never learn her name. He could 
not trust one of them with the secret of her removal. 
And yet some one of them must per force be entrusted 
with it ! 

He conned over the names of his associates one by 
one, and one by one condemned them all as unworthy of 
confidence in a matter where treachery might possibly be 


LET'S TALK OF GRAVES;' ETC. 49 ^ 

niade more profitable than fidelity. Bigot was false him- 
self to the heart’s core, and believed in no man’s truth. 

He was an acute judge of men. He read their motives, 
their bad ones especially, with the accuracy of a Mephisto- 
philes, and with the same cold contempt for every trace of 
virtue. 

‘‘ Varin was a cunning knave,” he said ; “ ambitious of 
the support of the church. Communing with his aunt, the 
superior of the Ursulines, whom he deceived, and who 
was not without hope of himself one day rising to be In- 
tendant. He would place no such secret in the keeping 
of Varin ! ” 

“ Penisault was a sordid dog. He would cheat the 
Montagnais of his gifts, and so discontent them with their 
charge. He had neither courage nor spirit for an adven- 
ture. He was in his right place superintending the coun- 
ters of the Friponne. He despised Penisault, while glad 
to use him in the basest offices of the Grand Company.” 

‘‘ Le Mericier was a pick-thank, angling after the favor 
of La Pompadour — a pretentious knave, as hollow as one 
of his own mortars. He suspected him of being a spy ot‘ 
hers upon himself. Le Mericier would be only too glad 
to send La Pompadour red hot information of such an 
important secret as that of Caroline, and she would reward 
it as good service to the king and to herself.” 

‘‘ Deschenaux was incapable of keeping a secret of 
any kind wherr he got drunk, or in a passion, which was 
every day. His rapacity reached to the very altar. He 
would rob a church, and was one who would rather take 
by force than favor. He would strike a Montagnais who 
would ask for a blanket more than he cheated him with. 
He would not trust Deschenaux. 

“ De Pean, the quiet fox, was wanted to look after 
that desperate gallant Le Gardeur de Repentigny, who 
was still in the palace, and must be kept there by all the 
seductions of wine, dice and women, until we have done 
with him. De Pean was the meanest spirit of them all. 
He would kiss my foot in the morning and sell me at 
night for a handful of silver,” said Bigot ‘‘ Villains every 
one of them, who would not scruple to advance their own 
interests with La Pompadour by his betrayal in telling her 
such a secret as that of Caroline’s.” 

“De Repentigny had honor and truth in him, and 


50G 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


could be entirely trusted if he promised to serve a friend. 
But Bigot dared not name to him a matter of this kind. 
He would spurn it, drunk as he was. He was still in all his 
instincts a gentleman and a soldier. He could only be 
used by Bigot, through an abuse of his noblest qualities. 
He dared not broach such a scheme to Le Gardeur de 
Repentigny ! ” 

Among his associates there was but one who, in spite 
of his brutal manners and coarse speech, perhaps because 
of these. Bigot would trust as a friend, to help him in a 
serious emergency like the present. 

Cadet, the Commissary General of New France, was 
faithful to Bigot as a fierce bull dog to his master. Cadet 
was no hypocrite, nay, he may have appeared to be worse 
than in reality he was. He was bold and outspoken, 
rapacious of other -men’s goods, and as prodigal of his 
own. Clever withal, fearless, and fit for any bold enter- 
prise. He ever allowed himself to be guided by the 
superior intellect of Bigot, whom he regarded as the 
prince of good fellows, and swore by him, profanely 
enough, on all occasions, as the shrewdest head and the 
quickest hand to turn over money in New France. 

Bigot could trust Cadet. He had only to whisper a 
few words in his ear to see him jump up from the table 
where he was playing cards, dash his stakes with a sweep 
of his hand into the lap of his antagonist, a gift or a for- 
feit, he cared not which, for not finishing the game. In 
three minutes Cadet was booted, with his heavy riding- 
whip in his hand ready to mount his horse and accompany 
Bigot ‘‘ to Beaumanoir or to Hell ! ” he said, ‘‘ if he wanted 
to go there.” 

In the short space of time, while the grooms saddled 
their horses. Bigot drew Cadet aside and explained to him 
the situation of his affairs, informing him in a few words, 
who the lady was, who lived in such retirement in the 
chteau, and of his denial .of the fact before the Council 
and Governor. He told him of the letters of the king 
and of La Pompadour respecting Caroline, and of the 
necessity of removing her at once far out of reach before 
the actual search for her was begun. 

Cadet’s cynical eyes flashed in genuine sympathy with 
Bigot, and he laid his heavy hand upon his shoulder and 
uttered a frank exclamation of admiration at his ruse to 
cheat La Pompadour and La Galissoniere both. 


LETS TALK OF GRAVES;^ ETC. 


501 

By St. Picot ! ’’ said he, “ I would rather go without 
dinner for a month than you should not have asked me, 
Bigot, to help you out of this scrape. What if you did 
lie to that fly-catching beggar at the Castle of St. Louis, 
who has not conscience to take a dishonest stiver from a 
cheating Albany Dutchman ! Where was the harm in it ? 
Better lie to him than tell the truth to La Pompadour 
about that girl ! Egad ! Madame Fish would serve you as 
the Iroquois served my fat clerk at Chouagen — make 
roast meat of you if she knew it ! Such a pother about a 
girl. Damn the women ! always ! I say Bigot ! A man is 
never out of hot water when he has to do with them ! ” 

Cadet was an habitual scorner of women. He was 
always glad to shun them, or get rid of them ; but on the 
present occasion he saw clearly that Bigot’s position was 
fatally compromised unless he got well out of this affair of 
Caroline St. de Castin. 

Striking Bigot’s hand hard with his own, he promised, 
wet or dry, through flood or fire, to ride with him to 
Beaumanoir, and take the girl, or lady ! — he begged the 
Intendant’s pardon — and by such ways as he alone knew, 
he would, in two days, place her safely among the Mon- 
tagnais, and order them at once, without an hour’s delay, to 
pull up stakes and remove their wigwams to the Tuque of the 
St. Maurice, where Satan himself could not find her. And 
the girl might remain there for seven years without ever 
being heard tell of, by any white person in the colony.” 

Bigot and Cadet rode rapidly forward until they came 
to the dark forest, where the faint outline of road, barely 
visible, would have perplexed Bigot to have kept it alone 
in the night. But Cadet was born in Charlebourg ; he 
knew every path, glade, and dingle in the forest of Beau- 
manoir, and rode on without drawing bridle. 

Bigot, in his fiery eagerness, had hitherto ridden fore- 
most. Cadet now led the way, dashing under the boughs 
of the great trees that overhung the road. The tramp of 
their horses woke the echoes of the woods. But they 
were not long in reaching the park of Beaumanoir. 

■ They saw before them the tall chimney stacks, and the 
high roofs and the white walls of the Chateau, looking 
spectral enough in the wan moonlight — ghostly, silent, 
and ominous. One light only was visible in the porter’s 
lodge, all else was dark, cold and sepulchral. 


502 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


The old watchful porter at the gate was instantly on 
foot to see who came at that hour, and was surprised 
enough at sight of his master and the Sieur Cadet, without 
retinue, or even a groom to accompany them. 

They dismounted and tied their horses outside the gate. 
‘‘ Run to the chateau, Marcele, without making the least 
noise.’’ said Bigot. Call none of the servants, but rap 
gently at the door of Dame Tremblay. Bid her rise 
instantly, without waking anyone. Say the Intendant de- 
sires to see her. I expect guests from the city.” 

I hate to lie even to servants ! ” said Bigot indignantly. 
‘‘ No one knows what inquiries may be made I No weed 
that grows is so prolific in multiplication as a lie ! A weed 
will fill the world, and a lie will fill the universe with its 
progeny, unless it be choked in time.” 

“ Well ! ” said Cadet, ‘‘ I do not care to lie often, 
Bigot ! because truth hits your enemy harder than lies ! 
When it does not, I see no harm in a round shot of a lie, if 
it will hurt the more ! ” 

The porter returned with the information that Dame 
Tremblay had got up, and was ready to receive His 
Excellency. 

Bidding old Marcele take care of the horses, they 
walked across the lawn to the chateau, at the door of 
which -stood Dame Tremblay hastily dressed, courtseying 
and trembling at this sudden summons to receive the 
Intendant and Sieur Cadet. 

Good night. Dame ! ” said Bigot in a low tone, ‘^con- 
duct us instantly to the Grand Gallery ! ” 

“ O your Excellency ! ” replied the Dame, courtseying, 
I am your humble servant at all times, day and night, as 
it is my duty and my pleasure to serve my master ! ” 

‘‘ Well then ! ” replied Bigot impatiently, let us go in 
and make no noise.” 

The three — Dame Tremblay leading the way with a 
candle in each hand, passed up the broad stair and into 
the gallery communicating with the apartments of Caroline. 
The Dame set her candles on the table and stood with her 
hands across her apron, in a submissive attitude waiting 
the orders of her master. 

“ Dame ! ” said he, I think you are a faithful servant, 
I have trusted you with much ! can I trust you with a 
greater matter still ? ” 


LET^S TALK OF GRAVES;^ ETC. 


503 

“ O, your Excellency ! I would die to serve so noble 
and generous a master ! It is a servant’s duty!” 

“ Few servants think so ! nor do I ! But you have been 
faithful to your charge respecting this poor lady within, 
have you not Dame ?” Bigot looked as if his eyes searched 
her very vitals. 

O Lord 1 O Lord 1 ” thought the Dame turning pale. 
“ He has heard about the visit of that cursed Mere Mal- 
heur, and he has come to hang me up for it in the gal- 
lery ! ” She stammered out in reply, “ O yes ! I have been 
faithful to my charge about the lady, your Excellency ! I 
have not failed wilfully or negligently in any one point, I 
assure you ! I have been at once careful and kind to her 
as you bade me to be, your Excellency ! Indeed I could 
not be otherwise to a live angel in the house like her 1 ” 

So I believe. Dame ! ” said Bigot in a tone of ap- 
proval, that quite lifted her heart. This spontaneous praise 
of Caroline touched him somewhat, ‘‘You have done well! 
Now can you keep another secret. Dame ! ” 

“ A secret ! and entrusted to me by your Excellency ! ” 
replied she in a voice of wonder, at such a question. “ The 
marble statue in the grotto is not closer than I am, your 
Excellency. I was always too fond of a secret ever to part 
with it! When I was the charming Josephine of Lake 
Beauport I never told, even in confession, who they were 
who—” 

“ Tut ! I will trust you Dame, better than I would have 
trusted the charming Josephine ! If all tales be true, you 
were a gay girl. Dame, and a handsome one in those days, 
I have heard ! ” added the Intendant with well planned 
flatteiy. 

A smile and a look of intelligence between the Dame and 
Bigot, followed this sally, while Cadet had much to do 
to keep in one of the hearty horse laughs he used to in- 
dulge in, and which would have roused the whole chateau. 

The flattery of the Intendant quite captivated the 
Dame. “ I will go through fire and water to serve your 
Excellency, if you want me,” said she, “ what shall I do to 
oblige your Excellency ? ” 

“Well, Dame you must know then, that the Sieur Cadet 
and I have come to remove that dear lady from the 
chateau to another place, where it is needful for her to go 
for the present time ; and if you are questioned about her^ 


5^4 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


mind you are to say she never was here, and you know 
nothing of her ! ’’ 

‘‘ I will not only say it,’’ replied the Dame with prompt^ 
ness, “ I will swear it until I am black in the face, if you 
command me your. Excellency ! Poor dear lady ! may I 
not ask where she is going?” 

“No ! she will be all right ! I will tell you in due time. 
It is needful for people to change sometimes you know. 
Dame ! You comprehend that ! You had to manage mat- 
ters discreetly when you were the charming Josephine ! I 
dare say you had to change too sometimes ! Every woman 
has an intrigue once at least, in her lifetime, and wants a 
change. But this lady is not clever like the charming 
Josephine, therefore we have to be clever for her! ” 

The Dame laughed prudently yet knowingly at this, 
while Bigot continued : “ Now you understand all ! Go to 
her chamber. Dame ! Present our compliments with our 
regrets for disturbing her, at this hour. Tell her that the 
Intendant and the Sieur Cadet desire to see her on impor- 
tant business.” 

Dame Tremblay with a broad smile all over her coun- 
tenance at her master’s jocular allusions to the charming 
Josephine, left at once to carry her message to the chamber 
of Caroline. 

She passed out, while the two gentlemen waited In the 
gallery. Bigot anxious but not doubtful of his influence to 
persuade the gentle girl to leave the chateau, Cadet coolly 
resolved that she must go whether she liked it or no ! He 
would banish every woman in New France to the Tuque of 
the St. Maurice had he the power, in order to rid himself 
and Bigot of the eternal mischief and trouble of them ! 

Neither Bigot nor Cadet spoke for some minutes after 
the departure of the Dame. They listened to her foot- 
steps as the sound of them died away in the distant rooms, 
where one door opened after another as she passed on to 
the secret chamber. 

“ She is now at the door of Caroline I ” thought Bigot as 
his imagination followed Dame Tremblay on her errand. 
“ She is now speaking to her ! I know Caroline will make 
no delay to admit us 1 ” Cadet on his side was very quiet 
and careless of ought save to take the girl, and get her 
safely away before daybreak. 

A few moments of heavy silence and expectation 


LET'S TALK OF GRAVEST ETC. 


5^5 


passed over them. The howl of a distant watch dog was 
heard and all was again still. The low monotonous ticking 
of the great clock at the head of the gallery made the 
silence still more oppressive. It seemed to be measuring 
off eternity, not time. 

The hour, the circumstance, the brooding stillness, 
w^aited for a cry of murder to ring through the chateau, 
waking its sleepers and bidding them come and see the 
fearful tragedy that lay in the secret chamber. 

But no cry came. Fortunately for Bigot it did not ! , 
The discovery of Caroline de St. Castin under such cir- 
cumstances would have closed his career in New France, 
and ruined him forever in the favor of the Court. 

Dame Tremblay returned to her master and Cadet with 
the information “ that the lady was not in her bed cham- 
ber,, but had gone down, as was her wont, in the still hours 
of the night, to pray in her oratory in the secret chamber, 
where she wished never to be disturbed. 

“ Well, Dame ! ’’ replied Bigot, you may retire to your 
owm room ! I will go down to the secret chamber myself. 
These vigils are killing her ! poor girl ! If your lady should 
be missing in the morning, remember Dame ! that you 
make no remark of it, she is going away to night with me 
and the Sieur Cadet and will return soon again ! so be 
discreet and keep your tongue well between your teeth, 
which I am glad to observe,’’ remarked he with a smile, 
are still sound and white as ivory ! ” 

Bigot wished by such flattery to secure her fidelity, and 
he fully succeeded. The compliment to her teeth was 
more agreeable than would have been a purse of money. 
It caught the Dame with a hook there was no escape from. 

Dame Tremblay courtseyed very low, and smiled very 
broadly to show her really good teeth of which she was 
extravagantly vain. She assured the Intendant of her 
perfect discretion and obedience to all his commands. 

‘‘Trust to me, your Excellency! ” said she with a pro- 
found courtesy. “ I never deceived a gentleman yet, 
except the Sieur Tremblay, and he, good man, was none ! 
When I was the charming Josephine and all the gay 
gallants of the city used to flatter and spoil me, I never 
deceived one of them ! never 1 I knew that all is vanity in 
this world, but my eyes and teeth were considered very fine 
in those days, your Excellency 1 ” 


THE CHIENHOR. 


506 


And are yet, Dame ! Zounds ! Lake Beauport has 
had nothing to equal them since you retired from business 
as a beauty ! But mind my orders, Dame ! keep quiet and 
you will please me ! Good night. Dame ! ’’ 

‘‘Good night. Your Excellency ! good night, your Hon- 
or!’^ replied she, flushed with gratified vanity. She left 
Bigot vowing to herself that he was the finest gentleman 
and the best judge of a woman in New France ! The 
Sieur Cadet she could not like. He never looked pleasant 
on a woman, as a gentleman ought to do ! 

The Dame left them to themselves, and went off trip- 
pingly in high spirits to her own chamber, where she 
instantly ran to the mirror to look at her teeth ! and made 
faces in the glass, like a foolish girl in her teens. 

Bigot out of a feeling of delicacy not usual with him, 
bid Cadet wait in the anteroom while he went forward to 
the secret chamber of Caroline. “ The sudden presence 
of a stranger might alarm her,’’ he said. 

He descended the stair and knocked softly at the door, 
calling in a low tone “Caroline! Caroline!” No answer 
came ! He wondered at that, for her quick ear used 
always to catch the first sound of his footsteps while 
yet afar off. 

He knocked louder, and called again her name. Alas ! 
he might have called for ever ! that voice would never make 
her heart flutter again or her eyes brighten at his footstep, 
that sounded sweeter than any music as she waited 
and watched for him, always ready to meet him at the 
door. 

Bigot anticipated something wrong ! and with a hasty 
hand pushed open the door of the secret chamber and 
went in ! A blaze of light filled his eyes ! a white form lay 
upon the floor. He saw it and he saw nothing else ! She 
lay there with her unclosed eyes looking, as the dead only 
look at the living. One hand was pressed to her bosom, 
the other was stretched out, holding the broken stem 
and a few green leaves of the fatal bouquet which 
La Corriveau had not wholly plucked from her grasp. 

Bigot stood for a moment stricken dumb, and trans- 
fixed with horror, then sprang forward and knelt over her 
with a cry of agony. He thought she might have fallen in 
a swoon, he touched her pale forehead, her lips, her hands. 
He felt her heart, it did not beat \ he lifted her head to his 


LET^S TALK OF GRAVES;^ ETC. 


507 


bosom, it fell like the flower of a lily broken on its stem, 
and he knew she was dead ! He saw the red streaks of 
blood on her snowy robe, and he saw she was murdered ! 

A long cry like the wail of a man in torture burst from 
him. It woke more than one sleeper in the distant 
chambers of the chateau, making them start upon their 
pillows to listen for another cry, but none came. Bigot 
was a man of iron ; he retained self-possession enough to 
recollect the danger of rousing the house. 

He smothered his cries in suffocating sobs, but they 
reached the ear of Cadet, who, foreboding some terrible 
catastrophe, rushed into the room where the secret door 
stood open. The light glared up the stair. He ran down 
and saw the Intendant on his knees, holding in his arms the 
half raised form of a woman which he kissed and called 
by name like a man distraught with grief and despair. 

Cadet’s coarse and immovable nature stood him in good 
stead at this moment. He saw at a glance what had hap- 
pened. The girl they had come to bear away was dead ! 
How ? He knew not ; but the Intendant must not be suf- 
fered to make an alarm. There was danger of discovery 
on all sides now, and the necessity of concealment was a 
thousand times greater than ever. There was no time to 
question, but instant help was needed. In amaze at the 
spectacle before him. Cadet instantly flew to the assistance 
of the Intendant. 

He approached Bigot without speaking a word, although 
his great eyes expressed a look of sympathy never seen 
there before. He disengaged the dead form of Caroline ten- 
derly from the embrace of Bigot, and laid it gently upon 
the floor, and lifting Bigot up in his stout arms, whis- 
pered hoarsely in his ear: Keep still. Bigot ! keep still ! 
not one word ! make no alarm ! This is a dreadful busi- 
ness, but we must go to another room to consider calmly, 
calmly, mind, what it means and what is to be done.” 

‘‘ O, Cadet ! Cadet ! ” moaned the Intendant, still rest- 
ing on his shoulder, ‘‘ She is dead ! dead ! when I just 
wanted her to live ! I have been hard with women, but if 
there was one I loved, it was she who lies dead before me ! 
Who ! who has done this bloody deed to me ? ” 

Who has done it to her, you mean ! you are not killed 
yet, old friend, but will live to revenge this horrid busi- 
ness ! ” answered Cadet with rough sympathy. 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


508 

I would give my life to restore hers ! replied Bigot, 
despairingly. O, Cadet ! you never knew what was in 
my heart about this girl ! and how I had resolved to make 
her reparation for the evil I had done her ! ” 

‘‘ Well, I can guess what was in your heart, Bigot. Come 
old friend, you are getting more calm, you can walk now ! 
Let us go up stairs to consider what is to be done about it. 
Damn the women ! they are man’s torment whether alive 
or dead ! ” 

Bigot was too much absorbed in his own tumultuous 
feelings to notice Cadet’s remark. He allowed himself to 
be led without resistance, to another room, out of sight of 
the murdered girl, in whose presence Cadet knew calm 
council was impossible. 

Cadet seated Bigot on a couch and sitting beside him, 
bade him be a man and not a fool ! He tried to rouse 
Bigot by irritating him, thinking in his coarse way, that 
that was better than maudlin over him, as he considered 
it, with vain expressions of sympathy. 

would not give way so,” said he, “ for all the 
women in and out of Paradise ! and you are a man. Bigot ! 
Remember you have brought me here, and you have to 
take me safely back again, out of this den of murder.” 

“ Yes, Cadet,” replied Bigot rousing himself up at the 
sharp tone of his friend, “I must think of your safety, I 
care little for my own at this moment. Think for me.” 

“ Well then, I will think for you, and I think this, 
Bigot, that if the Governor finds out this assassination, 
done in your house, and that you and I have been here at 
this hour of night, with the murdered girl, by God ! he will 
say we have alone done it ! and the world will believe it ! so 
rouse up, I for one do not want to be taxed with the mur- 
der of a woman, and still less hang innocently for the 
death of one. I would not risk my little finger for all 
the women alive ! let alone my neck for a dead one ! ” 

The suggestion was like a sharp probe in his flesh. It 
touched Bigot to the quick. He started up on his feet ; 
“ You are right. Cadet, it only wants that accusation to 
make me go mad ! But my head is not my own yet ! I can 
think of nothing but her lying there, dead in her loveliness 
and in her love ! Tell me what to do, and I will do it.” 

“ Aye, now you talk reasonably. Now you are coming 
to yourself, Bigot. We came to remove her alive from 


LET^S TALK OF GRAVES;^ ETC. 


509 


here, did we not ? We must now remove her dead. She 
cannot remain where she is at the risk of certain discovery- 
to-morrow.’’ 

‘‘ No, the secret chamber would not hide such a secret 
as that,” replied Bigot, recovering his self-possession, but 
how to remove her t we cannot carry her forth without 
discovery.” Bigot’s practical intellect was waking up to 
the danger of leaving the murdered girl in the chateau. 

Cadet rose and paced the room with rapid strides, rub- 
bing his forehead, and twitching his moustache violently, 
‘‘ I will tell you what we have got to do. Bigot ! Par Dieii ! 
we must bury her where she is, down there in the vaulted 
chamber.” 

“ What, bury her ! ” Bigot looked at him with intense 
surprise. 

“Yes, we must bury her in that very chamber. Bigot. 
We must cover up somebody’s damnable work to avert 
suspicion from ourselves ! A pretty task for you and me, 
Bigot ! Par Dieu I I could laugh like a horse, if I were 
not afraid of being overheard.” 

“ But who is to dig a grave for her ? surely not you or 
I,” replied Bigot with a look of dismay. 

“Yes, gentlemen as we are, you and I must do it. Bigot. 
Zounds ! I learned to dig and delve when I was a stripling 
at Charlebourg, and in the trenches at Louisbourg, and I 
have not yet forgotten the knack of it ! But where to get 
spades. Bigot, you are master here, and ought to know ? ” 

“ I, how should I know } It is terrible. Cadet, to bury 
her as if we had murdered her ! Is there no other way ? ” 

“ None. We are in a cahot, and must get our cariole 
out of it as best we can ! I see plainly we two shall be 
taxed with this murder. Bigot, if we let it be discovered ! 
Besides, utter ruin awaits you from La Pompadour if she 
find out you ever had this girl at Beaumanoir in keeping. 
Come ! time for parley is past ; where shall we find 
spades ? — we must to work. Bigot ! ” 

A sudden thought lighted up the eyes of the Intendant, 
who saw the force of Cadet’s suggestion, strange and 
repulsive as it was. “ I think I know,” said he, “ the 
gardeners keep their tools in the old tower, and we can 
get there by the secret passage and return.” 

“ Bravo ! ” exclaimed Cadet, encouragingly, “ come, 
show the way, and we will get the tools in a trice 1 I 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


Sio 

always heard there was a private way under ground to the 
old tower. It never stood its master in better stead than 
now ; perhaps never worse if it has let in the murderer of 
this poor girl of yours.’’ 

Bigot rose up, very faint and weak ; Cadet took his 
arm to support him, and bidding him be firm and not give 
way again at sight of her dead body, led him back to the 
chamber of death. “ Let us first look around a moment,” 
said he, to find, if possible, some trace of the hellish 
assassins.” 

The lamps burned brightly, shedding a glare of light 
over every object in the secret chamber. 

Cadet looked narrowly round, but found little trace of 
the murderers. The drawers of the escritoire stood open, 
with their contents in great disorder, a circumstance which 
at once suggested robbers. Cadet pointed it out to Bigot 
with the question : 

‘‘Kept she much money. Bigot?” 

“ None that I know of. She asked for none, poor girl ! 
I gave her none, though I would have given her the king’s 
treasury had she wished for it.” 

“ But she might have had money when she came, 
Bigot,” continued Cadet, not doubting but robbery had 
been the motive for the murder. 

“ It may be, I never questioned her,” replied Bigot, 
“ she spoke never of money ; alas ! all the money in the 
world was as dross in her estimation. Other things than 
money occupied her pure thoughts.” 

“ Well, it looks like robbers ; they have ransacked the 
drawers and carried off all she had, were it much or little,” 
remarked Cadet, still continuing his search. 

“ But why kill her ? O, Cadet ; why kill the gentle 
girl ? who would have given every jewel in her posses- 
sion for the bare asking ! ” 

“ Nay, I cannot guess,” said Cadet, “it looks like rob- 
bers, but the mystery is beyond my wit to explain ; what 
are you doing. Bigot ? ” 

Bigot had knelt down by the side of Caroline ; he lift- 
ed her hand first to his lips, then towards Cadet, to show 
him the stalk of a rose from which the flower had been 
broken, and which she held with a grip so hard that it 
could not be loosened from her dead fingers. 

The two men looked long and earnestly at it, but failed 


LET’S TALK OF GRAVES,” ETC. 


511 * 

to make a conjecture even, why the flower had been plucked 
from that broken stalk and carried away, for it was not to 
be seen in the room. 

The fragment of a letter lay under a chair. It was a 
part of that which La Corriveau had torn up and missed 
to gather up again with the rest. Cadet picked it up and 
thrust it into his pocket. 

The blood streaks upon her white robe and the visi- 
ble stabs of a fine poinard riveted their attention. That 
that was the cause of her death they doubted not, but the 
mute eloquence of her wounds spoke only to the heart. 
It gave no explanation to the intellect. The whole tragedy 
seemed wrapped in inexplicable mystery. 

They have covered their track up well ! remarked 
Cadet. “ Hey ! but what have we here ? ” Bigot started 
up at the exclamation. The door of the secret passage 
stood open. La Corriveau had not closed it after her 
when making her escape. Here is where the assassins 
have found entrance and exit ! Egad ! more people know 
the secret of your chateau than you think. Bigot ! . 

They sprang forward, and each seizing a lamp, the two 
men rushed into the narrow passage. It was dark and 
still as the catacombs. No trace of anything to the pur- 
pose could they perceive in the vaulted subterranean way 
to the turret. 

They speedily came to the other end, the secret door 
there, stood open also. They ascended the stairs in the 
tower but could see no trace of the murderers. It is 
useless to search farther for them at this time,” remarked 
Cadet, perhaps not safe at any time, but I would give my 
best horse to lay hands on the assassins at this moment ! ” 

Gardener’s tools lay round the room, Here ! ex- 
claimed Cadet; is what is equally germane to the matter, 
and we have no time to lose.” 

He seized a couple of spades and a bar of iron and 
bidding Bigot go before him with the lights, they returned 
to the chamber of death. 

“ Now for work ! This sad business must be done 
well, and done quickly!” exclaimed Cadet, ‘‘you shall 
see that I have not forgotten how to dig. Bigot 1 ” 

Cadet threw off his coat, and setting to work pulled up 
the thick carpet from one side of the chamber. The floor 
was covered with broad smooth flags, one of which he 


512 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


attacked with the iron bar, raised the flag stone and turned 
it over, another easily followed and very soon a space in 
the dry brown earth was exposed, large enough to make a 
grave. 

Bigot looked at him in a sort of dream. I cannot do 
it. Cadet ! I cannot dig her grave ! ” and he threw down the 
spade which he had taken feebly in his hand. 

‘‘No matter. Bigot ! I will do it ! indeed you would 
only be in my way. Sit down while I dig, old friend. Par 
Dieu I this is nice work for the Commissary General of 
New France, with the Royal Intendant overseeing him ! ” 
Bigot sat down, and looked forlornly on, while Cadet 
with the arms of a Hercules, dug and dug, throwing out 
the earth without stopping, for the space of a quarter of an 
hour, until he had made a grave large and deep enough to 
contain the body of the hapless girl. 

“ That will do ! cried he, leaping out of the pit. “ The 
sexton of Charlebourg could not have made a nicer bed 
to sleep in ! Our funeral arrangements must be of the 
briefest. Bigot ! So come help me to shroud this poor girl, 
who I hope will forgive her rough undertaker for doing his 
best to make a woman lie comfortable in her last bed ! ’’ 
Cadet found a sheet of linen and some fine blankets 
upon a couch in the secret chamber. He spread them out 
upon the floor, and motioned to Bigot, without speaking. 
The two men lifted Caroline tenderly and reverently upon 
the sheet. They gazed at her for a minute in solemn 
silence, before shrouding her fair face, and slender form 
in their last winding sheet. Bigot was overpowered with 
his feelings yet strove to master them, as he gulped down 
the rising in his throat, which at times almost strangled 
him. 

Cadet, eager to get his painful task over, took from the 
slender finger of Caroline, a ring, a love gift of Bigot, and 
from her neck a golden locket containing his portrait and 
a lock of his hair. A rosary hung at her waist, — this Cadet 
also detached, as a precious relic to be given to the Intend- 
ant by and bye. There was one thread of silk woven into 
the coarse hempen nature of Cadet, 

Bigot stooped down and gave her pale lips and eyes, 
which he had tenderly closed, a last despairing kiss, before 
veiling her face, with the winding sheet as she lay, white 
as a snow drift, and as cold. They wrapped her softly in 


LET^S TALK OF GRAVES;^ ETC. 


513 

the blankets and without a word spoken, lowered the still 
lissom body into its rude grave. 

The awful silence was only broken by the spasmodic 
sobs of Bigot as he leaned over the grave to look his last 
upon the form of the fair girl whom he had betrayed and 
brought to this untimely end ! Mea Culpa / Mea Maxbna 
Culpa said he, beating his breast. “O Cadet! we are 
burying her like a dog 1 I cannot, I cannot do it 1 ’’ 

The Intendant’s feelings overcame him again, and he 
rushed from the chamber, while Cadet glad of his absence 
for a few moments, hastily filled up the grave and replac- 
ing with much care, the stone slabs over it, swept the 
debris into the passage, and spread the carpet again 
smoothly over the floor. Every trace of the dreadful deed 
was obliterated in the chamber of murder. 

The secret chamber looked again as if nothing strange 
or horrible had happened in it. Just so the sea, when 
its smooth waters close over a man who sinks into its cold 
bosom. A splash, a few circles of agitation, and all is over 
and out of sight ! 

Cadet acutely thinking of everything at this supreme 
moment would leave no ground of suspicion for Dame 
Tremblay when she came in the morning to visit the cham- 
ber. She should think that her lady had gone away Avith 
her master, as mysteriously as she had come, and no 
further inquiry would be made after her. In this Cadet 
was right. 

Buried in this unconsecrated earth, with no requiem 
sung for her last repose, no prayer, no sprinkling save the 
tears which dropped heavily from the eyes of Bigot, and 
which, could she have been conscious of, Caroline would 
have prized more than the water of Jordan poured over 
her grave 1 No bell tolled for her. There was no chant of 
priest or lifting of the sacrament for the dead, but un- 
knelled, uncofflned, and unknown save to God only, and 
these two men, Caroline de St. Castin slept and still 
sleeps in the dust of the deep foundations of the Chateau 
of Beaumanoir. 

It was necessary for Cadet and Bigot now to depart by 
the secret passage to the tower. The deep toned bell of 
the chateau struck three. Its solemn voice seemed to 
bring with it the cold shuddering breath of approaching 
morn. 


33 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


514 

We must now be gone, Bigot ! and instantly ! ” ex- 
claimed Cadet. “Our night work is done ! Let us see 
what day will bring forth ! you must see to it to-morrow, 
Bigot ! that no man or wom‘an alive ever again enter this 
accursed chamber of death 1 ’’ 

Cadet fastened the secret door of the stair and gather- 
ing up his spades and bar of iron left the chamber with 
Bigot who was passive as a child in his hands. The 
Intendant turned round and gave one last sorrowful look 
at the now darkened room as they left it. Cadet and he 
made their way back to the tower. They sallied out into the 
open air which blew fresh and reviving upon their fevered 
faces, after escaping from the stifling atmosphere below. 

They proceeded at once towards their horses and 
mounted them, but Bigot felt deadly faint and halted under 
a tree, while Cadet rode back to the Porter’s lodge, and 
roused up old Marcele to give him some brandy, if he had 
any, “ as of course he had,” said Cadet. “ Brandy was a 
gate porter’s inside livery, the lining of his laced coat 
which he always wore.” Cadet assumed a levity which he 
did not really feel. 

Marcele fortunately could oblige the Sieur Cadet. “ He 
did line his livery a little, but lightly, as his honor would 
see ! ” said he bringing out a bottle of cognac, and a drink- 
ing cup. 

“ It is to keep us from catching cold ! ” continued Cadet 
in his peculiar way, “ Is it good ? ” He placed the bottle to 
his lips and tasted it. 

Marcele assured him it was good as gold. 

“ Right ! ” said Cadet, throwing Marcele a Louis d’or, 
“ I will take the bottle to the Intendant to keep him from 
catching cold, too ! mind, Marcele ! you keep your tongue 
still, or else — I” Cadet held up his whip, and bidding the 
porter “good night!” rejoined Bigot. 

Cadet had a crafty design in this proceeding. He 
wanted not to tell Marcele that a lady was accompanying 
them ; also not to let him perceive that they left Beaumanoir 
without one. He feared that the old Porter and Dame 
Tremblay might possibly compare notes together, and the 
housekeeper discover that Caroline had not left Beaumanoir 
with the Intendant. 

Bigot sat faint and listless in his saddle when Cadet 
poured out a large cupful of brandy and offered it to him. 


LET^S TALK OF GRAVES^ ETC. 


515 


He drank it eagerly, Cadet then filled and gulped down a 
large cupful himself, then gave another to the Intendant, 
and poured another and another for himself until he said 
he ‘‘ began to feel w^arm and comfortable, and got the dam- 
nable taste of grave digging out of his mouth ! 

The heavy draught which Cadet forced the Intendant 
to take relieved him somewhat, but he groaned inwardly 
and would not speak. Cadet respected his mood, only 
bidding him ride fast. They spurred their horses, and rode 
swiftly unobserved by any one, until they entered the gates 
of the palace of the Intendant. 

The arrival of the Intendant or of the Sieur Cadet at 
the Palace at any untimely hour of the night excited no 
remark whatever, for it was the rule, rather than the 
exception with them both. 

Dame Tremblay was not surprised next morning to 
find the chamber empty and her lady gone. 

She shook her head sadly. “ He is a wild gallant is 
my master ! No wilder ever came to Lake Beauport, when 
I was the charming Josephine and all the world ran after 
me ! But I can keep a secret, and I will ! This secret I 
must keep at any rate by the Intendant’s order! and I 
would rather die than be railed at by that fierce Sieur 
Cadet 1 I will keep the Intendant’s secret 1 safe as my 
teeth which he praised so handsomely and so justly 1 ” 

And she did keep it until years after the conquest of 
Canada when Bigot was atoning in the Bastile for high 
misdemeanors and maladministration as Intendant of New 
France. Then did a garrulous old woman use to babble 
before her death about the charming Josephine of Lake 
Beauport, and tell what she knew — not much after all — 
of the fate of the unhappy lady, who had either been 
spirited away or buried alive in the secret chamber of 
Beaumanoir. 

The fact that Caroline never returned to the chateau, 
and that the search for her was so long and so vainly car- 
ried on by La Come St Luc and the Baron de St. Castin, 
caused the Dame to suspect at last that some foul play 
had been perpetrated, but she dared not speak openly. 

The old woman’s suspicions grew with age iuto cer* 
tainties, when at last she chanced to talk with her old fel- 
low servant, Marcele, the gate-keeper, and learned from 
him that Bigot and Cadet had left the chateau alone on 


THE CHIENHOR. 


51^ 

that fatal night. Dame Tremblay was more perplexed 
than ever. She talked, she knew not what, but her talk 
passed into the traditions of the Habitans. 

It became a popular belief that a beautiful woman, the 
mistress of the powerful Intendant Bigot, had been mur- 
dered and buried in the Chateau of Beaumanoir. 

The secret chamber was, immediately after the tragedy, 
disfurnished and shut up by order of the Intendant. Dame 
Tremblay sedulously avoided it ; she believed it haunted. 

It was never visited, save by Bigot, who, in his after 
career of praetorian riot and extravagance, sometimes broke 
off from his companions in the height of their revelry, rode 
out to Beaumanoir, and descending to the gloomy chamber, 
flung himself despairingly upon the cold stone that he had 
sculptured with the solitary letter C, which covered the 
dust of the one woman who had ever loved Frangois Bigot 
for his own sake. The only one who, had she been spared, 
might by her sweet influences have made a better and a 
nobler man of him, and, who knows ? might have checked 
his career of extravagance and corruption, and turned his 
undoubted talents to the benefit instead of to the ruin of 
New France ! Caroline de St. Castin, had she lived, might 
have averted the conquest of the Colony, which was mainly 
lost through the misgovernment of Bigot, and his waste of 
all the public resources that should have contributed to the 
defence of New France. But it was not to be ! No other 
influence for good remained after the death of the unfortu- 
nate Caroline. 

The storms of six score winters have howled among the 
ruins of Beaumanoir, of chateau Bigot, as it is now popu- 
larly called by the habita?is^ who still look upon its crumb- 
ling walls with feelings of awe — as a place accursed in the 
history of their country. 

All has gone to ruin. The chateau itself is a pile of 
destruction. Its very stones have been carted away by the 
peasantry, save a few stern old gables that still brave the 
elements, and its thick massive foundations that still pre- 
serve an outline of the great wicked edifice. The secret 
chamber itself lies uncovered to the sun. God’s light streams 
upon it. Green grass and wild flowers tangle among its stone 
heaps ! the bird builds its nest, and the hare makes its form 
and rears its young above the grave of Caroline, now lost 
under a mass of debris and ruin. 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


517 


Old grey men, still living, remember a period before the 
final dilapidation of the chateau, when daring visitors 
who ventured down into the deep vaults could still see the 
solitary tombstone with its one mysterious initial, the letter 
Cy carved upon it, all that was left upon earth to perpetuate 
the memory of the beautiful and unfortunate Caroline de 
St. Castin. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 

I T was long before Angelique came to herself from the 
swoon in which she had been left lying on the floor by 
La Corriveau. Fortunately for her it was without dis- 
covery, None of the servants happened to come to her 
room during its continuance, else a weakness so strange to 
her usual hardihood would have become the city’s talk be- 
fore night, and set all its idle tongues conjecturing or in- 
venting a reason for it. It would have reached the ears of 
Bigot as every spray of gossip did, and set him thinking, 
too, more savagely than he was yet doing, as to the causes 
and occasions of the murder of Caroline. 

All the way back to the palace. Bigot had scarcely 
spoken a word to Cadet. His mind was in a tumult of the 
wildest conjectures, and his thoughts ran to and fro like 
hounds in a thick brake darting in every direction to find 
the scent of the game they were in search of. When they 
reached the Palace, Bigot, without speaking to any one, 
passed through the ante-rooms to his own apartment, and 
threw himself, dressed and booted as he was, upon a couch, 
where he lay like a man stricken down by a mace from some 
unseen hand. 

Cadet had coarser ways of relieving himself from the late 
unusual strain upon his rough feelings. He went down to 
the billiard room, and joining recklessly in the game that 
was still kept up by De Pean, Le Gardeur, and a number of 
wild associates, strove to drown all recollections of the past 
night at Beaumanoir by drinking and gambling with more 
than usual violence until far on in the day. 


THE CHIEH nOR. 


Bigot neither slept nor wished to sleep. The image of 
the murdered girl lying in her rude grave was ever before 
him, with a vividness so terrible that it seemed he could 
never sleep again. His thoughts ran round and round 
like a millwheel, without advancing a step towards a so- 
lution of the mystery of her death. 

He summoned up his recollections of every man and 
woman he knew in the colony, and asked himself regarding 
each one, the question, Is it he who has done this ? Is it 
she who has prompted it ? and who could have had a motive, 
and who not, to perpetrate such a bloody deed ? ” 

One image came again and again before his mind’s eye 
as he reviewed the list of his friends and enemies. The 
figure of Angelique appeared and reappeared, intruding 
itself between every third or fourth personage which his 
memory called up, until his thoughts fixed upon her with 
the maddening inquiry, “ Could Angelique des Meloises 
have been guilty of this terrible deed t ” 

He remembered her passionate denunciation of the 
Lady of Beaumanoir, her fierce demand for her banishment 
by a lettre de cachet. He knew her ambition and reckless- 
ness, but still, versed as he was in all the ways of wicked- 
ness, and knowing the inexorable bitterness of envy, and 
the cruelty of jealousy in the female breast — at least in such 
women as he had for the most part had experience of — 
Bigot could hardly admit the thought that one so fair as 
Angelique, one who held him in a golden net of fascination, 
and to whom he had been more than once on the point of 
yielding, could have committed so great a crime. 

He struggled with his thoughts like a man amid tossing 
waves, groping about in the dark for a plank to float upon, 
but could find none. Still, in spite of himself, in spite of 
his violent asseverations that it was impossible in spite 
of Cadet’s plausible theory of robbers — which Bigot at 
first seized upon as the likeliest explanation of the mystery 
— the thought of Angelique ever returned back upon him 
like a fresh accusation. 

He was deeply moved, and at last almost alarmed at the 
persistence with which the reflection of her face went and 
came, now far, now near, like the phantasm of a magic 
lantern, that haunted his most secret thoughts. 

He could not accuse her yet, though something told 
him he might have to do so at last. He grew angry at the 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HAKDS. 


519 

ever recurring thought of her, and turning his face to the 
wall, like a man trying to shut out the light, resolved to 
force disbelief in her guilt until clearer testimony than his 
own suspicions should convict her of the death of Caroline. 
And yet in his secret soul he dreaded a discovery that might 
turn out as he feared. But he pushed the black thoughts 
aside ; he would wait and watch for what he feared to find. 

The fact of Caroline’s concealment at Beaumanoir, and 
her murder at the very moment when the search was about 
to be made for her, placed Bigot in the cruellest dilemma. 
Whatever his suspicions might be, he dared not, by word or 
sign, avow any knowledge of Caroline’s presence, still less 
of her mysterious murder in his chateau. Her grave had 
been dug ; she had been secretly buried out of human sight, 
and he was under bonds as for his very life never to let the 
dreadful mystery be discovered ! 

So Bigot lay on his couch, for once, a weak and a fright- 
ened man, registering vain vows of vengeance against per- 
sons unknown, vows which he knew at the moment were 
empty as bubbles, because he dared not move hand or 
foot in the matter to carry them out, or make open accusa- 
tion against any one of the foul crime. What thoughts 
came to Bigot’s subtle mind were best known to himself, 
but something was suggested by the mocking Devil, who 
was never far from him, and he caught and held fast the 
wicked suggestion with a bitter laugh. He then grew sud- 
denly still and said to himself, I will sleep on it ! ” and 
pillowing his head quietly, not in sleep, but in thoughts 
deeper than sleep, he lay till day. 

Angelique, who had never in her life swooned before, ^ 
felt, when she awoke, like one returning to life from death. 
She opened her eyes wondering where she was, and half 
remembering the things she had heard as things she had 
seen — looked anxiously around the table for La Corriveau. 
She rose up with a start when she saw she was gone, for 
Angdique recollected suddenly that La Corriveau now held 
the terrible secret which concerned her life and peace for 
evermore. 

The thing she had so long wished for and prayed for, 
was at last done ! Her rival was out of the way ! But she 
also felt that if the murder was discovered her own life was 
forfeit to the law, and the secret was in the keeping of the 
vilest of women.” 


S20 


THE CHIEN D'OR, 


A mountain, not of remorse, but of apprehension, over- 
whelmed her for a time. But Angelique’s mind was too 
intensely selfish, hard and superficial, to give way to the 
remorse of a deeper nature. Her feelings, such as they 
were, played like flame on the surface of her heart, but 
never warmed it to the core. She was incapable of real 
remorse, and would regard the world well lost for sake of 
herself. Her nature was too artificial to take the tragedy 
very deeply to heart. No furies would sit on her pillow 
accusing her of midnight murder ; and she would go 
through life forgetting, in the enjoyment of a brilliant 
career, the bloody episode of Caroline de St. Castin. 

Still the tidings of Caroline’s death gave her a shock. 
It was her first plunge into positive crime, and she trem- 
bled for the consequences. She who had never shunned 
man or woman before, felt like hiding herself now ! 

She was angry at her own cowardice, but she feared the 
suspicions of Bigot. There was ever something in his 
dark nature which she could not fathom, and deep and 
crafty as she knew herself to be, she feared that he was 
more deep and more crafty than herself. 

What if he should discover her hand in this bloody 
business ? The thought drove her frantic, until she fancied 
she repented of the deed. But it was self-delusion, she 
did not repent, she only feared punishment for herself. 
Then she tried to pray, but prayer stuck in her throat, and 
then she cursed her folly, not her cruelty ; she was too 
hard-hearted for that. Her words came in a flow of in- 
vective against Bigot for not removing Caroline from Beau- 
manoir, and against Caroline for having come there at all. 
She cursed La Corriveau for shaping the evil desires of her 
heart into instruments of murder — the poison and the dag- 
ger — and she cursed herself for paying so terrible a price 
for the bare possibility, not the certainty, of becoming the 
wife of Bigot. 

Had it brought a certainty, this crime, then — why then 
— she had found a compensation for the risk she was run 
ning, for the pain she was enduring, which she tried to be- 
lieve was regret and pity for her victim. Her anxiety re 
doubled when it occurred to her that Bigot, remembering 
her passionate appeals to him for the removal of Caroline, 
might suspect her of the murder as the one alone having 
a palpable interest in it. 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


521 


But Bigot shall never believe it even if he suspect it ! ’’ 
exclaimed she at last, shaking off hqr fears — “ I have made 
fools of many men for my pleasure — I can surely blind one 
for my safety — and after all, whose fault is it but Bigot’s ? 
lie would not grant me the lettre de cachet., nor keep his 
promise for her removal ! He even gave me her life ! but 
he lied ! He did not mean it ! He loved her too well and 
meant to deceive me, and marry her, and I have deceived 
him and shall marry him, that is all ! and Angelique 
laughed a hysterical laugh, such as Dives in his torments 
may sometimes give way to. 

La Corriveau has betrayed her trust in one terrible 
point,” continued she — “ she promised a death so easy, 
that all men would say the Lady of Beaumanoir died 
of heart break only, or by God’s visitation ! a natural death ! 
The foul witch has used her stiletto and made a murder of 
that which without it had been none ! Bigot will know 
it, must know it even if he dare not reveal it ! for how in 
the name of all the saints is it to be concealed ? ” 

But my God ! this will never do ! ” continued she start- 
ing up, “ I look like very guilt ! ” She stared fiercely in the 
mirror at her hollow eyes, pale cheeks and white lips. She 
scarcely recognized herself. Her bloom and brightness 
had vanished for the time. 

‘‘ What if I have inhaled some of the poisoned odor of 
those cursed roses ? ” thought she, shuddering at the suppo- 
sition — but she reassured herself that it could not be, 
“ Still my looks condemn me ! The pale face of that dead 
girl is looking at me out of mine ! Bigot if he sees me 
will not fail to read the secret in my looks. 

She glanced at the clock — the morning was far 
advanced towards noon — visitors might soon arrive — 
Bigot himself might come — she dare not deny herself to 
him. She would deny herself to no one to-day ! She would 
go everywhere and see every body — and show the world if 
talk of it should arise, that she was wholly innocent of that 
girl’s blood ! 

She would wear her brightest looks — her gayest robe — 
her hat and feathers the newest from Paris. She would 
ride out into the city — go to the Cathedral — show herself 
to all her friends, and make every one say or think that 
Angelique des Meloises had not a care or trouble in the 
world ! 


522 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


She rang for Fanchon, impatient to commence her 
toilette, for when dressed she knew that she would feel 
like herself once more, cool and defiant. The touch of her 
armor of fashionable attire would restore her confidence 
in herself, and enable her to brave down any suspicion in 
the mind of the Intendant — at any rate it was her only 
resource, and Angelique was not one to give up even a 
lost battle — let alone one half gained, through the death of 
her rival — 

Fanchon came in haste at the summons of her mistress. 
She had long waited to hear the bell — and began to fear 
she was sick or in one of those wild moods which had 
come over her occasionally since the night of her last in- 
terview with Le Gardeur. 

The girl started at sight of the pale face and paler lips 
of her mistress. She uttered an exclamation of surprise — ■ 
but Angelique anticipating all questions, told her, “she 
was unwell, but would dress and take a ride out in the 
fresh air and sunshine to recruit.” 

“ But had you not better see the Physician, my Lady ? 
— ^you do look so pale to-day, you are really not well ! ” 

“No, but I will ride out,” and, she added in her old 
way, “perhaps Fanchon, I may meet some one who will be 
better company than the Physician ? Qui salt ? ” and she 
laughed with an appearance of gaiety which she was far 
from feeling, and which only half imposed on the quick- 
witted maid who waited upon her. 

“Where is your aunt, Fanchon? When did you see 
Dame Dodier ? ” asked she, really anxious to learn what 
had become of La Corriveau. 

“ She returned home, this morning, my Lady! I had not 
seen her for days before ; but supposed she had already 
gone back to St. Valier — but Aunt Dodier is a strange 
woman, and tells no one her business.” 

“ She has perhaps other lost jewels to look after besides 
mine ” — replied Angelique mechanically, yet feeling easier 
upon learning the departure of La Corriveau. 

“ Perhaps so, my Lady. I am glad she is gone home, 
I shall never wish to see her again.” 

, “Why?” — asked Angelique, sharply — wondering if 
Fanchon had conjectured anything of her aunt’s business. 

“They say she has dealings with that horrid Mere 
Malheur, and I believe it? ” replied Fanchon, with a shrug 
of disgust. 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


523 


Ah ! do you think Mere Malheur knows her business 
or any of your aunt’s secrets, Fanchon ? ” asked Angelique, 
thoroughly roused. 

‘‘ I think she does, my Lady — you cannot live in a 
chimney with another, without both getting black alike, 
and Mere Malheur is a black witch as sure as my aunt is a 
white one,” was Fanchon’s reply. 

“What said your aunt on leaving?” asked her mis- 
tress — • 

“ I did not see her leave, my Lady, I only learned from 
Ambroise Gariepy that she had crossed the river this morn- 
ing, to return to St. Valier.” 

“And who is Ambroise Gariepy, Fanchon? You have 
a wide circle of acquaintance for a young girl, I think ! ” 
Angelique knew the dangers of gossipping too well, not to 
fear Fanchon’s imprudences. 

“ Yes, my Lady,” replied Fanchon with affected sim- 
plicity, “ Ambroise Gariepy keeps the Lion Vert and the 
Ferry, upon the South Shore — he brings me news and 
sometimes a little present from the pack of the Basque 
peddlers — He brought me this comb, my Lady ! ” Fanchon 
turned her head to show her mistress a superb comb in 
her thick black hair, and in her delight of . talking of 
Ambroise Gariepy, the little Inn of the Ferry and the 
cross that leaned like a failing memory over the grave of 
his former wife — Fanchon quite forgot to ease her mind 
further on the subject of La Corriveau, nor did Angelique 
resume the dangerous topic. 

Fanchon’s easy shallow way of .talking of her lover, 
touched a sympathetic chord in the breast of her mistress. 
Grand passions were grand follies in Angelique’s estima- 
tion, which she was less capable of appreciating than even 
her maid \ but flirtation and coquetry, skin deep only, she 
could understand and relished beyond all other enjoy- 
ments. It was just now like medicine to her racking 
thoughts to listen to Fanchon’s shallow gossip. 

“ She had done what she had done,” she reflected, “ and 
it could not be undone ! why should she give way to 
regret, and lose the prize for which she had staked so 
heavily ? She would not do it ! No, Par Dien I She had 
thrown Le Gardeur to the fishes for sake of the Intendant, 
and had done that other deed ! She shied off from the 
thought of it as from an uncouth thing in the dark, and 


524 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


began to feel shame of her weakness at having fainted at 
the tale of La Corriveau. 

The light talk of Fanchon while dressing the long golden 
hair of her mistress and assisting her to put on a new 
riding dress and the plumed hat fresh from Paris, which 
she had not yet displayed in public, did much to restore 
her equanimity. 

Her face had, however, not recovered from its strange 
pallor. Her eager maid anxious for the looks of her 
mistress, insisted on a little rouge, which Angelique’s 
natural bloom had never before needed. She submitted, 
‘‘for she intended to look her best to-day,’’ she said, “who 
knows whom I shall fall in with ? ” 

“ That is right, my Lady,” exclaimed Fanchon admir- 
ingly, “no one could be dressed perfectly as you are and 
be sick ! I pity the gentlemen you meet to-day, that is all ! 
There is murder in your eye, my Lady ! 

Poor Fanchon believed she was only complimenting 
her mistress, and at other times her remark would only 
have called forth a joyous laugh, now the word seemed like 
a sharp knife, it cut, and, Angelique did not laugh; She 
pushed her maid forcibly away from her, and was on the 
point of breaking out into some violent exclamation, when 
recalled by the amazed look of Fanchon — she turned the 
subject adroitly, and asked — “ where is my brother ? ” 

“ Gone with the Chevalier de Pean to the Palace, my 
Lady ! ” replied Fanchon, trembling all over and wondering 
how she had angered her mistress. 

“ How know you that, Fanchon ? ” asked Angelique, 
recovering her usual careless tone. 

“ I overheard them speaking together, my Lady. The 
Chevalier de Pean said that the Intendant was sick, and 
would see no one this morning.” 

“ Yes, what then ? ” Angelique was struck with a 
sudden consciousness of danger in the wind. “ Are you sure 
they said the Intendant was sick ? ” asked she. 

“Yes ! my Lady, and the Chevalier de Pean, said that 
he was less sick than mad, and out of humor to a degree 
he had never seen him before ! ” 

“ Did they give a reason for it } that is for the Intend- 
ant’s sickness or. madness ? ” Angelique’s eyes were fixed 
keenly upon her maid, to draw out a full confession. 

“ None, my Lady ! only the Chevalier des Meloises said 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


525 

he supposed it was the news from France which sat so ill 
on his stomach.” 

And what then, Fanchon ? you are so long of answer- 
ing ! ” Angelique stamped her foot with impatience. 

Fanchon looked up at the reproof so little merited, and 
replied quickly — “the Chevalier de Pean said, it must be 
that for he knew of nothing else. The gentlemen then 
went out and I heard no more.” 

Angelique was relieved by this turn of conversation. 
She felt certain that if Bigot discovered the murder he 
would not fail to reveal it to the Chevalier de Pean, who 
was understood to be the depositary of all his secrets. She 
began to cheer up under the belief that Bigot would never 
dare accuse anyone, of a deed which would be the means 
of proclaiming his own falseness and duplicity towards 
the King and the Marquise de Pompadour. 

“ I have only to deny all knowledge of it,” said she to 
herself, “ swear to it if need be ! and Bigot will not dare 
to go farther in the matter. Then will come my time to 
turn the tables upon him, in a way he little expects] 
Pshaw ! ” continued she, glancing at her gay hat in the 
mirror, and with her own dainty fingers setting the feather 
more airily to her liking. “ Bigot is bound fast enough to 
me now, that she is gone ! and when he discovers that I 
hold his secret he will not dare meddle with mine.” 

It is recorded that the Athenians ignorantly worshipped 
the true Deity, under the name of the unknown God. 
Angelique like many in modern times worshipped heathen 
deities, in the name of the true. The Goddess ignorantly 
worshipped by Angelique, and who received the first 
offerings of her heart, was Venus Victrix, in the form of 
herself, and no woman of Greece or Rome was ever more 
devout in the homage she paid to the heathen shrine. 

Angelique, measureably reassured and hopeful of suc- 
cess in her desperate venture, descended the steps of her 
mansion, and gathering up her robes, daintily, mounted her 
horse, which had long been chafing in the hands of her 
groom waiting for his mistress. 

She bade the man remain at home until her return, and 
dashed off down the Rue St. Louis, drawing after her a 
hundred eyes of admiration and envy. 

“She would ride down to the Place d^Armes’^ she 
thought, where she knew that before she had skirted the 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


526 

length of the Castle wall, half a dozen gallants would greet 
her with offers of escort, and drop any business they had 
in hand for the sake of a gallop by her side. 

She had scarcely passed the monastery of the Recollets 
when she was espied by the Sieur La Force, who too, was 
as quickly discovered by her, as he loitered at the corner 
of the Rue St. Ann, to catch sight of any fair piece of mis- 
chief that might be abroad that day from her classes, in the 
convent of the Ursulines. 

“ Angelique is as fair a prize as any of them,” thought 
La Force, as he saluted her with Parisian politeness, and 
with a request to be her escort in her ride through the 
city. 

My horse it at hand, and I shall esteem it such an 
honor,” said La Force, smiling, ‘‘ and such a profit, too,” 
added he ; my credit is low in a certain quarter ; you 
know where ! ” and he laughingly pointed towards the con- 
vent. I desire to make her jealous, for she has made me 
madly so, and no one can aid in an enterprise of that kind 
better than yourself. Mademoiselle des Meloises ! ” 

“ Or more willingly, Sieur La Force ! ” replied she, 
laughing. ‘‘But you overrate my powers, I fear.” 

“ O, by no means,” replied La Force ; “ there is not a 
lady in Quebec but feels in her heart that Angelique des 
Meloises can steal away her lover when and where she - 
will. She has only to look at him across the street, and 
presto ! change ! he is gone from her as if by magic. 
But will you really help me. Mademoiselle } ” 

“ Most willingly, Sieur La Force — for your profit if not 
for your honour! I am just in the humour for tormenting 
somebody this morning ; so get your horse and let us be 
off!” 

Before La Force had mounted his horse, a number of 
gayly-dressed young ladies came in sight, full sail down 
the Rue St. Anne — like a fleet of rakish little yachts, bear- 
ing down upon Angelique and her companion. 

“ Shall we wait for them. La Force ? ” asked she. “ They 
are from the Convent ! ” 

“Yes, and she is there, too ! The news will be all over 
the city in an hour that I am riding with you ! ” exclaimed 
La Force, in a tone of intense satisfaction. 

Five girls j ust verging on womanhood, perfect in manner 
and appearance — as the Ursulines knew well how to train 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


527 


the young olive plants of the colony — walked on demurely 
enough, looking apparently straight forward, but casting side 
glances from under their veils, which raked the Sieur La 
Force and Angelique with a searching fire, that nothing 
could withstand. La Force said ; but which Angelique re- 
marked, was simply impudence, such as could only be 
found in convent girls ! ” 

They came nearer. Angelique might have supposed 
they were going to pass by them had she not known too 
well their sly ways. The foremost of the five, Louise Roy, 
whose glorious hair was the boast of the city, suddenly 
threw back her veil and disclosing a charming face, dimpled 
with smiles and with a thousand mischiefs lurking in her 
bright grey eyes — sprang towards Angelique, while her 
companions — all Louises of the famous class of that name 
— also threw up their veils, and stood saluting Angelique 
and La Force with infinite merriment. 

Louise Roy, quizzing La Force through a coquettish 
eye-glass which she wore on a ribbon round her pretty 
neck, as if she had never seen him before, motioned to 
him in a queenly way as she raised her dainty foot, giving 
him a severe look — or what tried to be such, but was in 
truth an absurd failure. 

He instantly comprehended her command, for such it 
was, and held out his hand, upon which she stepped lightly, 
and sprang up to Angelique, embracing and kissing her 
with such cordiality, that if it were not real, the acting was 
perfect. At the same time Louise Roy made her under- 
stand that she was not the only one who could avail her- 
self of the gallant attentions of the Sieur La Force. 

In truth Louise Roy was somewhat piqued at the Sieur 
La Force, and to punish him made herself as heavy as 
her slight figure would admit of. She stood perched up 
as long as she could — and actually enjoyed the tremor 
which she felt plainly enough in his hand as he continued 
to support her, and was quite disposed to test how long he 
could or would hold her up, while she conversed in whis- 
pers with Angelique. 

“ Angelique ! ” said she, they say in the Convent that 
you are to marry the Intendant. Your old mistress. Mere 
St. Louis is crazy with delight. She says she always pre- 
dicted you would make a great match.” 

‘‘ Or none at all, as Mere St. Helene used to say of me 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


528 

but they know everything in the Convent, do they not ? 
Angelique pinched the arm of Louise, as much as to say, 
Of course it is true.’’ “ But who told you that, Louise ? ” 
asked she. 

O, every bird that flies ! But tell me one thing more 
— they say the Intendant is a Bluebeard, wdio has had wives 
without number — nobody knows how many or what became 
of them, so of course he kills them ! Is that true ? ” 

Angelique shrank a little, and little as it was the move- 
ment was noticed by Louise. “ If nobody knows what 
became of them, how should I know, Louise ? ” replied 
she. “ He does not look like a Bluebeard, does he } ” 

‘‘So says Mere St. Joseph, who came from the Convent 
at Bordeaux, you know, for she never tires telling us. She 
declares that the Chevalier Bigot was never married at all, 
and she ought to know that surely, as well as she knows 
her beads, for coming from the same city as the Intendant — ■ 
and knowing his family as she does — ” 

“ Well, Louise,” interrupted Angelique impatiently, “ but- 
do you not see the Sieur La Force is getting tired of hold- 
ing you up so long with his hand — for heaven’s sake, 
get down ! ” 

“ I want to punish him for going with you, and not wait- 
ing for me ! ” was the cool whisper of Louise ; “ but you 
will ask me, Angelique, to the wedding, will you not 't If 
you do not,” continued she, “ I shall die ! ” and delaying 
her descent as long as possible, she commenced a new 
topic concerning the hat worn by Angelique. 

“ Mischief that you are, get down ! The Sieur La P'orce 
is my cavalier for the day, and you shall not impose on his 
gallantry that way ! He is ready to drop,” whispered An- 
gelique. 

“ One word more, Angelique.” Louise was delighted 
to feel the hand of La Force tremble more and more under 
her foot. 

“ No, 7iot a word ! get down ! ” 

“ Kiss me then and good-bye, cross thing that you are ! 
Do not keep him all day, or all the class besides myself 
will be jealous,” replied Louise, not offering to get down. 

Angelique had no mind to allow her cavalier to be made 
a horse-block of, for anybody but herself. She jerked the 
bridle, and making her horse suddenly pirouette, compelled 
Louise to jump down. The mischievous little fairy turned 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


529 


her bright laughing eyes full upon La Force and thanked 
him for his great courtesy, and with a significant gesture — • 
as much as to say he was at liberty now to escort Angelique, 
having done penance for the same — rejoined her expect- 
ant companions, who had laughed heartily at her manoeuvre. 

“ She paints ! was Louise’s emphatic whisper to her 
companions, loud enough to be heard by La Forte, for 
whom the remark was partly intended. She paints ! and 
I saw in her eyes that she has not slept all night ! She is 
in love ! and I do believe it is true, she is to marry the In- 
tendant !” 

This was delicious news to the class of Louises, who 
laughed out like a chime of silver bells, as they mis- 
chievously bade La Force and Angelique bon voyage., and 
passed down the Place d^Armes in search of fresh adven- 
tures to fill their budgets of fun — budgets which, on their 
return to the Convent, they would open under the very 
noses of the good nuns (who were not so blind as they 
seemed, however), and regale all their companions with a 
spicy treat, in response to the universal question ever put 
to all who had been out in the city, “ What is the news 1 ” 

La Force, compliant as wax to every caprice of An- 
gelique, was secretly fuming at the trick played upon him 
by the Mischief of the Convent — as he called Louise Roy 
— ^for which he resolved to be revenged, even if he had to 
marry her. He and Angelique rode down the busy streets, 
receiving salutations on every hand. In the great square 
of the market place Angelique pulled up in front of the 
Cathedral. 

Why she stopped there would have puzzled herself to 
explain. . It was not to worship, not to repent of her 
heinous sin ; she neither repented nor desired to repent. 
But it seemed pleasant to play at repentance, and put on 
imaginary sackcloth. She would try at any rate to say in 
church the prayers which had choked her at home. 

Angelique’s brief contact with the fresh, sunny nature 
of Louise Roy had sensibly raised her spirits. It lifted the 
cloud from her brow, and made her feel more like her 
former self. The story, half told in jest by Louise, that 
she was to marry the Intendant, flattered her vanity and 
raised her hopes to the utmost. She liked the city to talk 
of her in connection with the Intendant. 

34 


530 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


The report had already become the city’s talk, and she 
knew that it was not strange to the ears of the Intendant 
himself, for at the Taverne de Menut only a few nights ago, 
her name had been toasted upon their knees by Bigot and 
the wild gallants of his train. She had been spoken of 
freely over their cups, and Bigot had not denied, but cheered 
louder than the rest when she was named as the future 
bride of the Intendant. 

Angelique remembered this as she entered the cathedral, 
and began to think it was not so unfortunate after all that 
she had taken counsel of La Corriveau. 

The image of Beaumanoir grew fainter and fainter as 
she knelt down upon the floor, not to ask pardon for her 
sin, but to pray for immunity for herself and the speedy 
realization of the great object of her ambition and her 
crime! She almost persuaded herself that the d'eath of 
Caroline, taking it all in all, had been an act of especial 
grace in answer to her ardent prayers — to the unknown 
goddess, Venus Victrix. 

The pealing of the organ, rising and falling in waves of 
harmony ; the chanting of choristers, and the voice of the 
Celebrant during the service in honor of St. Michael and 
all the Angels, touched her sensuous nature, but failed to 
touch her conscience. She admired, she felt the harmony, 
saw the glory of the archangel, and forgot the mortal angel 
lying in her bloody shroud under the cold flags of the 
secret chamber of the chateau, where she hoped full soon 
to be the regent and mistress. 

A crowd of worshippers were kneeling upon the floor 
of the cathedral, unobstructed in those days by seats and 
pews, except on one side, where rose the stately bancs of 
the Governor and the Intendant, on either side of which 
stood a sentry with ported arms, and overhead upon the 
wall blazed the royal escutcheons of France. 

Angelique, whose eyes roved incessantly about the 
church, turned them often towards the gorgeous ba7ic of the 
Intendant, and the thought intruded itself to the exclusion 
of her prayers, ‘‘ When shall I sit there with all these proud 
ladies forgetting their devotions through envy of my good 
fortune ? ” 

She conjured up an image of herself sitting on the 
royal banc., and her nimble fancy flashed for a moment with 
a woman’s interest, upon the color of the robe, the fashion 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


S3t 


of her hair and her head-dress, upon that momentous day — • 
a momentous day, indeed, to her if it ever came ! A still 
more momentous thing if the day never came ! Either 
way to gain the world she had lost her soul. Happy if she 
did not lose the world too, by the loss of her life, should 
the dark deed at Beaumanoir ever be laid to her charge ! 

Bigot did not appear in his place at church to-day. He 
was too profoundly agitated and sick, and lay on his bed 
till evening, revolving in his astute mind schemes of ven- 
geance possible and impossible, to be carried out should 
his suspicions of Angelique become certainties of know- 
ledge and fact. His own safety was at stake. The thought 
that he had been outwitted by the beautiful, designing, 
heartless girl, the reflection that he dare not turn to the 
right hand nor to the left to inquire into this horrid assas- 
sination, which, if discovered, would be laid wholly to his 
own charge, drove him to the verge of distraction. 

The Governor and his friend Peter Kahn occupied the 
royal banc. Lutheran as he was, Peter Kalm was too phil- 
osophical and perhaps too faithful a follower of Christ to 
consider religion as a matter of mere opinion or of form 
rather than of humble dependence upon God, the Father of 
all, with faith in Christ and the conscientious striving to 
love God and his neighbor. 

A short distance from Angelique, two ladies in long 
black robes, and evidently of rank, were kneeling with 
downcast faces and hands clasped over their bosoms, in a 
devout attitude of prayer and supplication. 

Angelique’s keen eye, which nothing escaped, needed 
not a second glance to recognize the unmistakable grace 
of Amelie de Repentigny and the nobility of the Lady de 
Tilly. 

She started at sight of these relatives of Le Gardeur’s, 
but did not wonder at their presence, for she already knew 
that they had returned to the city immediately after the 
abduction of Le Gardeur by the Chevalier de Pean. 

Startled, frightened and despairing, with aching hearts 
but unimpaired love, Amelie and the Lady de Tilly had 
followed Le Gardeur and re-occupied their stately house in 
the city, resolved to leave no means untried, no friends un- 
solicited, no prayers unuttered, to rescue him from the gulf 
of perdition into which he had again so madly plunged. 

Within an hour after her return, Amelie, accompanied 


532 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


by Pierre Philibert, had gone to the Palace to seek an inter- 
view with her brother. They were rudely denied. He 
was playing a game of piquet for the championship of the 
Palace with the Chevalier de Pean, and could not come if 
St. Peter, let alone Pierre Philibert, stood at the gate 
knocking ! 

This reply had passed through the impure lips of the 
Sieur de Lantagnac before it reached Amelie and Pierre. 
They did not believe it came from their brother. They 
left the Palace with heavy hearts, after long and vainly 
seeking an interview, Philibert resolving to appeal to the 
Intendant himself and call him to account at the sword’s 
point, if need be, for the evident plot in the Palace to detain 
Le Gardeur from his friends. 

Amelie, dreading some such resolution on the part of 
Pierre, went back next day alone to the Palace to try once 
more to see Le Gardeur. 

She was agitated and in tears at the fate of her brother. 
She was anxious, too, over the evident danger which Pierre 
seemed to court, for his sake, and she would not hide the 
truth from herself, for her own sake, too, and yet she would 
not forbid him — she felt her own noble blood stirred within 
her to the point that she wished herself a man to be able 
to walk sword in hand into the Palace and confront the 
herd of revellers who she believed had plotted the ruin of 
her brother. 

She was proud of Pierre, while she trembled at the re- 
solution which she read in his countenance of demanding 
as a soldier, and not as a suppliant, the restoration of Le 
Gardeur to his family. 

Amelie’s second visit to the Palace had been as fruitless 
as her first. She was denied admittance, with the pro- 
foundest regrets on the part of De Pean, who met her at 
the door and strove to exculpate himself from the accusa- 
tion of having persuaded Le Gardeur to depart from Tilly, 
and of keeping him in the palace against the prayers of 
his friends. 

De Pean remembered his presumption as well as his 
rejection by Amelie at Tilly, and while his tongue ran 
smooth as oil in polite regrets that Le Gardeur had resolved 
not to see his sister to-day, her evident distress filled him 
with joy, which he rolled under his tongue as the most 
delicate morsel of revenge he had ever tasted. 


4 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


533 


Bowing with well-affected politeness, De Pean attended 
her to her carriage, and having seen her depart in tears, 
returned laughing into the Palace, remarking, as he mi- 
micked the weeping countenance of Amelie, that “ the 
honiietes gens had learned it was a serious matter to come 
to the burial of the virtues of a young gentleman like Le 
Gardeur de Repentigny ! ” 

On her return home, Amelie threw herself on the neck 
of her aunt, repeating in broken, accents, “My poor Le 
Gardeur ! my brother ! He refuses to see me, aunt ! He 
is lost and ruined in that den of all iniquity and false- 
hood ! 

“ Be composed, Amelie,” replied the Lady de Tilly ; “ I 
know it is hard to bear, but perhaps Le Gardeur did not 
send that message to you. The men about him are capa- 
ble of deceiving you to an extent you have no conception 
of, you who know so little of the world’s baseness. 

“ O aunt, it is true ! He sent me this dreadful thing, 
I took it, for it bears the handwriting of my brother.” 

She held in her hand a card, one of a pack. It was 
the deathcard of superstitious lookers into futurity. Had 
he selected it because it bore that reputation, or was it by 
chance ? 

On the back of it he had written, or scrawled in a 
trembling hand, yet plainly, the words, “ Return home, 
Amelie. I will not see you. I have lost the game of life, 
and won the card you see. Return home, dear sister ! 
and forget your unw'orthy and ruined brother, Le Gar- 
deur.” 

Lady de Tilly took the card and read and re-read it, 
trying to find a meaning it did not contain, and trying not 
to find the sad meaning it did contain. 

She comforted Amelie as best she could, while needing 
strength herself to bear the bitter cross laid upon them 
both, in the sudden blighting of that noble life of which 
they had been so proud. 

She took Amelie in her arms, mingling her own tears 
with hers, and.bidding her not despair. “ A sister’s love,” 
said she, “ never forgets, never wearies, never despairs.” 
They had friends too powerful to be withstood, even by 
Bigot, and the Intendant would be compelled to loosen 
his hold upon Le Gardeur. She would rely upon the in- 
herent nobleness of the nature of Le Gardeur himself, to 


534 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


wash itself pure of all stain, could they only withdraw him 
from the seductions of the Palace. We will win him from 
them by counter charms, Amelie, and it will be seen that 
virtue is stronger than vice to conquer at last the heart of 
Le Gardeur. 

“ Alas, aunt ! ’’ replied the poor girl, her eyes suffused 
with tears, “ neither friend nor foe will avail to turn him 
from the way he has resolved to go. He is desperate, 
and rushes with open eyes upon his ruin. We know the 
reason of it all. There is but one who could have saved 
Le Gardeur, if she would. She is utterly unworthy of my 
brother, but I feel now it were better Le Gardeur had 
married even her, than that he should be utterly lost to 
himself and us all. I will see Angelique des Meloises 
myself. It was her summons brought him back to the 
city. She alone can withdraw him from the vile com- 
panionship of Bigot and his associates at the Palace.’^ 

Angelique had been duly informed of the return of 
Amelie to the city, and of her fruitless visits to the Palace 
to see her brother. 

It was no pleasure, but a source of angry disappoint- 
ment to Angelique that Le Gardeur, in despair of making 
her his wife, refused to devote himself to her as her loven 
He was running wild to destruction, instead of letting her 
win the husband she aspired to, and retain at the same 
time the gallant she loved and was not willing to forego. 

She had seen him at the first sober moment after his 
return from Tilly, in obedience to her summons. She had 
permitted him to pour out again his passion at her feet. 
She had yielded to his kisses when he claimed her heart 
and hand, and had not refused to own the mutual flame 
that covered her cheek with a blush at her own falseness. 
But driven to the wall by his impetuosity, she had at last 
killed his reviving hopes by her repetition of the fatal 
words, “ I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not marry 
you ! 

Let justice be done to Angelique. 

It was hard even for her to repeat those words, but her 
resolution once taken could not be overthrown. There 
was no base of real feeling in her nature upon which to 
rest the lever that moves other women to change with 
pardonable inconsistencies. Angelique was by impulse 
true, by deliberate calculation false and immovable 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


535 


It was in vain that Le Gardeur pleaded with her. He 
touched her sympathy the nearest that any mortal man 
could do, but her sympathy was a hard polished surface ; 
her heart was impenetrable to true love. It was cold as 
marble, and empty of all save idols of vanity, frivolity and 
utter selfishness. It could reflect love as from a mirror, 
but never feel its true warmth stirring within. 

Angelique was seized with a sudden impulse to with- 
draw from the presence of Amelie in the Cathedral, before 
being discovered by her. She was half afraid that her 
former school companion would not speak to her on the 
subject of Le Gardeur. She could not brazen it out with 
Amelie, who knew her too well, and if she could she would 
gladly avoid the angry flash of those dark pure eyes, 
which looked through and through you like the eyes of 
God’s cherubim, which see within and without. 

Amelie was to the imagination of Angelique an em- 
bodiment of spiritual forces, which she could never com- 
prehend, but which she knew to be irresistible in any 
combat with falsehood and deceit. On more than one 
occasion, Angelique’s hardihood had quailed and broken 
down before the quiet moral strength of Amelie de Repen- 
tigny. 

The organ was pealing the last notes of the doxology, 
and the voices of the choristers seemed to re-echo from 
the depths of eternity the words “ in sxciila sceculorum^' 
when Angelique rose up suddenly to leave the church. 

Her irreverent haste caused those about her to turn 
their heads at the slight confusion she made, Amelie 
among the rest, who recognized at once the countenance 
of Angelique, somewhat flushed and irritated, as she strove 
vainly, with the help of La Force, to get out of the throng 
of kneeling people who covered the broad floor of the 
cathedral. 

Amelie deemed it a fortunate chance to meet Ange- 
lique so opportunely — ^just when her desire to do so was 
strongest. She caught her eye, and made her a quick 
sign to stay, and approaching her, seized her hands in her 
old affectionate way. 

‘‘ Wait a few moments, Angelique,” said she, “ until 
the people depart. I want to speak to you alone. I am' 
so fortunate to find you here.” 

“ I will see you outside, Amelie. The Sieur La Force 


THE CHI EH D' OR. 


536 

is with me, and cannot stay.’’ Angelique dreaded an inter- 
view with Amelie. 

‘‘No, I will speak to you here. It will be better here 
in God’s temple than elsewhere. The Sieur La Force 
will wait for you if you ask him, or shall I ask him ? ” A 
faint smile accompanied these words of Amelie, which she 
partly addressed to La Force. 

La Force, to Angelique’s chagrin, understanding that 
Amelie desired him to wait for Angelique outside, at once 
offered to do so. 

“ Or, perhaps,” continued Amelie, offering her hand, 
“ the Sieur La Force, whom I am glad to see, will have 
the politeness to accompany the Lady de Tilly, while I 
speak to Mademoiselle des Meloises } ” 

La Force was all compliance. “He was quite at the 
service of the ladies,” he said politely, “ and would esteem 
it an honor to accompany the noble Lady de Tilly.” 

The Lady de Tilly at once saw through the design of 
her niece. She acceded to the arrangement, and left the 
cathedral in company with the Sieur La Force, whom she 
knew as the son of an old and valued friend. 

Fie accompanied her home, while Amelie, holding fast 
to the arm of Angelique, until the church was empty of 
all but a few scattered devotees and penitents, led her 
into a side chapel, separated from the body of the church 
by a screen of carved work of oak, wherein stood a small 
altar and a reliquary with a picture of St. Paul. 

The seclusion of this place commended itself to the 
feelings of Amelie. She made Angelique kneel down by 
her side before the altar. After breathing a short silent 
prayer for help and guidance, she seized her companion 
by both hands and besought her “in God’s name to tell 
her what she had done to Le Gardeur, who was ruining 
himself both soul and body ? ” 

Angelique, hardy as she was, could ill bear the search- 
ing gaze of those pure eyes. She quailed under them for a 
moment, afraid that the question might have some refer- 
ence to Beaumanoir, but re-assured by the words of 
Amelie, that her interview had relation to Le Gardeur 
only, she replied — 

“ I have done nothing to make Le Gardeur ruin him- 
self, soul or body, Amelie. Nor do I believe he is doing 
so. Our old convent notions are too narrow to take out 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


537 

with us into the world. You judge Le Gardeur too rigidly, 
Amelie.” 

“ Would that were my fault, Angelique ! replied she, 
earnestly, ‘‘ but my heart tells me he is lost unless those 
who led him astray remit him again into the path of virtue 
whence they seduced him.’’ 

Angelique winced, for she took the allusion to herself, 
although in the mind of Amelie it referred more to the 
Intendant. ‘‘ Le Gardeur is no weakling to be led astray,” 
replied she. ‘‘He is a strong man to lead others, not to 
be led, as I know better than even his sister.” 

Amelie looked up inquiringly, but Angelique did not 
pursue the thought nor explain the meaning of her words. 

“ Le Gardeur,” continued Angelique, “ is not worse, nay 
with all his faults, is far better than most young gallants 
who have the laudable ambition to make a figure in the 
world such as women admire. One cannot hope to find 
men saints and we women be such sinners ! Saints would 
be dull companions, I prefer mere men, Amelie !” 

“ For shame, Angelique ! to say such things before the 
sacred shrine,” exclaimed Amelie, indignantly stopping her. 
“ What wonder that men are wicked when women tempt 
them to be so ! Le Gardeur was like none of the gallants 
you compare him with ! He loved virtue and hated vice, 
and above all things he despised the companionship of 
such men as now detain him at the Palace. You first took 
him from me, Angelique ! I ask you now to give him back 
to me. Give me back my brother, Angelique des Meloises !” 
Amelie grasped her by the arm in the earnestness of her 
appeal. 

“ I took him from you ? ” exclaimed Angelique, hotly. 
“ It is untrue ! Forgive my saying so, Amelie ! I took him no 
more than did Heloise de Lotbiniere or Cecile Touran- 
geau ! Will you hear the truth ? He fell in love with me 
and I had not the heart to repulse him — nay, I could not, 
for I will confess to you, Amelie, as I often avowed to you 
in the Convent, I loved Le Gardeur the best of all my ad- 
mirers ! and by this blessed shrine,” continued she, laying 
her hand upon it, “ I do still ! If he be as some say he 
is, going too fast, for his own good or yours or mine, I re- 
gret it with my whole heart ; I regret it as you do ! Can I 
say more ? ” 

Angelique was sincere in this. Her words sounded hon- 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


538 

est, and she spoke with a real warmth in her bosom, such 
as she had not felt in a long time. 

Her words impressed Amelie favorably. 

“ I think you speak truly, Angelique,” replied she, ‘Vwhen 
you say you regret Le Gardeur’s relapse into the evil ways 
of the Palace. No one that ever knew my noble brother 
could do other than regret it. But O, Angelique ! why 
with all your influence over him did not you prevent it ? 
Why do you not rescue him now ? A word from you would 
have been of more avail than the pleading of all the world 
beside ! ’’ 

Amelie, you try me hard,” said Angelique, uneasily, 
conscious of the truth of Amelie’s words, ‘‘ but I can bear 
much for the sake of Le Gardeur ! Be assured that I have 
no power to influence his conduct in the way of amend- 
ment, except upon impossible conditions ! I have tried, 
and my efforts have been vain, as your own ! ” 

“ Conditions ! ” replied Amelie, “ what conditions ? but 
I need not ask you ! He told me in his hour of agony of 
your inexplicable dealing with him, and yet not so inexpli- 
cable now ! Why did you profess to love my brother, lead- 
ing him on and on to an offer of his hand, and then cruelly 
reject him, adding one more to the list of your heartless 
triumphs ? Le Gardeur de Repentigny was too good for 
such a fate from any woman, Angelique ! ” Amelie’s eyes 
swam in tears of indignation as she said this. 

‘‘ He was too good for me ! ” said Angelique, dropping 
her eyes. “ I will acknowledge that, if it will do you any 
good, Amelie ! But can you not believe that there was a 
sacrifice on my part as well as on his or yours } ” 

I judge not between you, Angelique ! or between the 
many chances wasted on you ; but I say this, Angelique 
des Meloises ! you wickedly stole the heart of the noblest 
brother in New France to trample it under your feet !” 

“ ’Fore God, I did not, Amelie !” she replied indignantly, 
I loved and do love Le Gardeur de Repentigny, but I 
never plighted my troth to him, I never deceived him ! I 
told him I loved him, but I could not marry him ! and by 
this sacred cross,” said she, placing her hands upon it, “ it 
is true ! I never trampled upon the heart of Le Gardeur ; 
I could kiss his hands, his feet with true affection as ever 
loving woman gave to man, but my duty, my troth, my fate, 
were in the hands of another ! ” 


SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS. 


539 


Angelique felt a degree of pleasure in the confession to 
Amdlie of her love for her brother. It was the next thing 
to confessing it to himself, which had been once the joy of 
her life, but it changed not one jot her determination to 
wed only the Intendant, unless, — yes ! her busy mind had 
to-day called up a thousand possible and impossible con- 
tingencies that might spring up, out of the unexpected use 
of the stiletto by La Corriveau. What if the Intendant, 
suspecting her complicity in the murder of Caroline, should 
refuse to marry her ? Were it not well in that desperate 
case to have Le Gardeur to fall back upon He would 
take her at a word ; nay, she flattered herself that he would 
take her believing her denial of guilt against the accusation 
of all the world.’’ 

If the golden arrow missed the target, she would hit it 
with the silver one ! and her mind misgave her sometimes, 
that it might be almost as pleasant to marry the man she 
loved for his own sake, as the man she wanted for sake of 
his rank and riches. 

Amelie watched nervously the changing countenance of 
Angelique. She knew it was a beautiful mask covering 
impenetrable deceit, and that no principle of right kept her 
from wrong when wrong was either pleasant or profitable. 
A man had better trust his naked hand in the mouth of a 
wolf than his true heart in the keeping of Angelique. 

The conviction came upon Amelie like a flash of inspira- 
tion that she was wrong in seeking to save Le Gardeur by 
seconding his wild offer of marriage to Angelique. A union 
with this false and capricious woman would only make his 
ruin more complete and his latter end worse than the first. 
“ She would not urge it,” she thought. 

“ Angelique,” said she, “ if you love Le Gardeur, you will 
not refuse your help to rescue him from the Palace. You 
cannot wish to see him degraded as a gentleman because 
he has been rejected by you as a lover.” 

“ Who says I wish to see him degraded as a gentleman ? 
and I did not reject him as a lover ! not finally, that is I 
did not wholly mean it. When I sent to invite his return 
from Tilly it was out of friendship, love, if you will, Amelie, 
but from no desire that he should plunge into fresh dissipa- 
tion.” 

‘‘ I believe you, Angelique ! you could not if you had the 
heart of a woman loving him ever so little, desire to see 


540 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


him fall into the clutches of men who with the wine cup in 
one hand and the dice box in the other, will never rest 
until they ruin him body, soul and estate.” 

‘‘ Before God I never desired it, and to prove it, I have 
cursed De Pean to his face, and erased Lantagnac from my 
list of friends, for coming to show me the money he had 
won from Le Gardeur while intoxicated. Lantagnac brought 
me a set of pearls which he had purchased out of his win- 
nings, I threw them into the fire and would have thrown him 
after them, had I been a man ! ’fore God I would, Amelie ! 
I may have wounded Le Gardeur, but no other man or 
woman shall injure him with my consent.” 

Angelique spoke this in a tone of sincerity that touched 
somewhat the heart of Amelie, although the aberrations 
and inconsistencies of this strange girl perplexed her to 
the utmost to understand what she really felt. 

‘‘ I think I may trust you, Angelique, to help me to 
rescue him from association with the Palace ?” said Amelie, 
gently, almost submissively, as if she half feared a refusal. 

“ I desire nothing more,” replied Angelique ; you 
have little faith in me, I see that,” Angelique wiped her 
eyes, in which a shade of moisture could be seen, — ‘‘ but 
I am sincere in my friendship for Le Gardeur. The Vir- 
gin be my witness, I never wished his injury, even when I 
injured him most. He sought me in marriage, and I was 
bound to another.” 

“ You are to marry the Intendant, they say ? I do not 
wonder, and yet I do wonder, at your refusing my brother, 
even for him.” 

Marry the Intendant ! Yes, it is what fools and some 
wise people, say. [ never said it myself, Amelie.” 

“ But you mean it, nevertheless ; and for no other 
would you have thrown over Le Gardeur de Repentigny.” 

“I did not throw him over,” she answered, indignantly. 

But why dispute ? I cannot, Amelie, say more, even to 
you ! I am distraught with cares and anxieties, and know 
not which way to turn.” 

“ Turn here ! where I turn in my troubles, Angelique,” 
replied Amelie, moving closer to the altar. “ Let us pray 
for Le Gardeur.” Angelique obeyed mechanically and the 
two girls prayed silently for a few moments, but how dif- 
ferently in spirit and feeling ! The one prayed for her 
brother — the other tried to pray, but it was more for her- 


THE INTEND ANT'S DILEMMA, 


541 


self, for safety in her crime and success in her deep laid 
scheming. A prayer for Le Gardeur mingled with Ange- 
lique’s devotions, giving them a color of virtue. Her 
desire for his welfare was sincere enough, and she thought 
it disinterested of herself to pray for him. 

Suddenly Angelique started up as if stung by a wasp. 
‘‘ I must take leave of you, my Amelie,” said she, ‘‘ I am 
glad I met you, here. I trust you understand me now, 
and will rely on my being as a sister to Le Gardeur, to do 
what I can to restore him perfect to you and the good 
Lady de Tilly.’’ 

Amelie was touched. She embraced Ange^lique and 
kissed her, yet so cold and impassive she felt her to be, a 
shiver ran through her as she did so. It was as if she 
had touched the dead, and she long afterwards thought of 
it. There was a mystery in this strange girl that Amelie 
could not fathom nor guess the meaning of. They left the 
Cathedral together. It was now quite empty save of a 
lingering penitent or two kneeling at the shrines. Ange- 
lique and Amalie parted at the door, the one eastward, the 
other westward, — and carried away by the divergent cur^ 
rents of their lives, they never met again. 


CHAPTER XLVHI. 

THE INTENDANT’S DILEMMA. 

D id I not know for a certainty that she was present 
till midnight at the party given by Madame de 
Grandmaison, I should suspect her, by God ! ” exclaimed 
the Intendant, as he paced up and down his private room 
in the Palace, angry and perplexed to the uttermost over 
the mysterious assassination at Beaumanoir. “ What think 
you. Cadet ? ” 

‘‘ I think that proves an alibi'^ replied Cadet, stretching 
himself lazily in an armchair and smoking with half shut 
eyes. There was a cynical, mocking tone in his voice 
which seemed to imply that although it proved an alibi^ it 
did not prove innocence to the satisfaction of the Sieur 
Cadet. 


S42 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


“You think more than you say, Cadet. Out with it ! 
Let me hear the worst of your suspicions. I fancy they 
chime with mine,” said the Intendant, in quick reply. 

“ As the bells of the Cathedral with the bells of the 
Recollets,” drawled out Cadet. “ I think she did it. Bigot, 
and you think the same ; but I should not like to be 
called upon to prove it, nor you either, — not for the sake 
of the pretty witch, but for your own.” 

“ I could prove nothing. Cadet. She was the gayest 
and most light-hearted of all the company last night at 
Madame de Grandmaison’s. I have made the most par- 
ticular inquiries of Varin and Deschenaux. They needed 
no asking, but burst out at once into praise and admiration 
of her gaiety and wit. It is certain she was not at Beau- 
manoir.” 

“ You often boasted you knew women better than I, and 
I yielded the point in regard to Angelique.” replied Cadet, 
refilling his pipe. “I did not profess to fathom the depths 
of that girl, but I thought you knew her. Egad ! she has 
been too clever for you Bigot ! She has aimed to be the 
Lady Intendant and is in a fair way to succeed ! That 
girl has the spirit of a war-horse ; she would carry any man 
round the world. I wish she would carry me. I would 
rule Versailles in six weeks, with that woman. Bigot ! ” 

“The same thought has occurred to me. Cadet, and 
I might have been entrapped by it had not this cursed 
affair happened. La Pompadour is a simpleton beside 
Angelique des Meloises ! My difficulty is to believe her 
so mad as to have ventured on this bold deed.” 

“ ’Tis not the boldness, only the uselessness of it, 
would stop Angelique ! ” answered Cadet, shutting one eye 
with an air of lazy comfort. 

“ But the deceitfulness of it. Cadet ! A girl like her 
could not be so gay last night with such a bloody purpose 
on her soul. Could she, think you ? ” 

“ Couldn’t she ? Tut ! Deceit is every woman’s nature ! 
Her wardrobe is not complete unless it contains as many 
lies for her occasions as ribbons for her adornment ! ” 

“ You believe she did it then ? What makes you think 
so. Cadet ? ” asked Bigot eagerly, drawing near his com- 
panion. 

“ Why, she and you are the only persons on earth who 
had an interest in that girl’s death. She to get a dangerous 


THE INTEND ANT'S DILEMMA. 


543 


rival out of the way — ^you to hide her from the search- 
warrants sent out by La Pompadour. You did not do it, 
I know : ergo, she did ! Can any logic be plainer That 
is the reason I think so, Bigot.” 

“ But how has it been accomplished, Cadet ? Have 
you any theory She can not have done it with her own 
hand.” 

‘‘ Why, there is only one way that I can see. We know 
she did not do the murder herself, therefore she has done 
it by the hand of another. Here is proof of a confederate, 
Bigot, — I picked this up in the secret chamber.” Cadet 
drew out of his pocket the fragment of the letter torn in 
pieces by La Corriveau. “ Is this the handwriting of 
Angelique ” asked he. 

Bigot seized the scrap of paper, read it, turned it over 
and scrutinized it, striving to find resemblances between 
the writing and that of every one known to him. His 
scrutiny was in vain. 

“ This writing is not Angelique’s,” said he. ‘‘ It is 
utterly unknown to me. It is a woman’s hand, but cer- 
tainly not the hand of any woman of my acquaintance, and 
I have letters and billets from almost every lady in Que- 
bec. It is proof of a confederate, however, for listen. 
Cadet ! It arranges for an interview with Caroline, poor 
girl ! It was thus she was betrayed to her death. It is 
torn, but enough remains to make the sense clear — listen : 

At the arched door about midnight — if she pleased to 
admit her she would learn important matters concerning 
herself — the Intendant and the Baron de St. Castin 
— speedily arrive in the Colony.” That throws light 
upon the mystery. Cadet ! A woman was to have an 
interview with Caroline at midnight ! Good God, Cadet ! 
not two hours before we arrived ! And we deferred start- 
ing in order that we might rook the Seigneur de Port 
Neuf ! Too late ! too late ! O cursed word that ever 
seals our fate when we propose a good deed ! ” and Bigot 
felt himself a man injured and neglected by Providence. 

“ ‘ Important matters relating to herself.’ ” repeated 
Bigot, reading again the scrap of writing. “ ‘ The Intend- 
ant and the Baron de St Castin — speedily to arrive in the 
Colony.’ No one knew but the sworn Councillors of the 
Governor that the Baron de St. Castin was coming out to 
the Colony. A woman has done the deed, and she has 


544 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


been informed of the secrets spoken in Council by some 
councillor present on that day at the Castle. Who was 
he ? and who was she ? ” questioned Bigot, excitedly. 

‘‘ The argument runs like water down hill, Bigot ! 
but, par Dieu ! I would not have believed that New 
France contained two women of such mettle as the one to 
contrive, the other to execute a master-piece of devilment 
like that ! ’’ 

Since we find another hand in the dish, it may not 
have been Angelique after all,’^ remarked Bigot. “ It is 
hard to believe one so fair and free spoken, guilty of so 
dark and damnable a crime.’’ Bigot would evidently be 
glad to find himself in error touching his suspicions. 

“ Fairest without is often foulest within. Bigot,” an 
swered Cadet, doggedly. “ Open speech in a woman is 
often an open trap to catch fools ! Angelique des Meloises 
is free spoken and open-handed enough to deceive a con- 
clave of Cardinals ; but she has the lightest heels in the 
city. Would you not like to see her dance a Ballet de 
Triomphe on the broad flag-stone I laid over the grave of 
that poor girl ? If you would, you have only to marry her, 
and she will give a ball in the secret chamber ! ” 

‘‘ Be still. Cadet! I could take 3^ou by the throat for 
suggesting it I but I will make her prove herself innocent ! ” 
exclaimed Bigot, angry at the cool persistence of Cadet. 

‘‘ I hope you will not try it to-day. Bigot.” Cadet 
spoke gravely now. ‘‘Let the dead sleep, and let all 
sleeping dogs and bitches lie still. Zounds ! we are in 
greater danger than she is ! you cannot stir in this matter 
without putting yourself in her power. Angelique has got 
hold of the secret of Caroline and of the Baron de St. 
Castin ; what if she clear herself by accusing you ? The 
king would put you in the Bastile for the magnificent lie 
you told the Governor, and La Pompadour would send 
you to the Place de Greve when the Baron de St. Castin 
returned with the bones of his daughter, dug up in your 
chateau ! ” 

“ It is a cursed dilemma 1 ” Bigot fairly writhed with 
perplexity. “ Dark as the bottomless pit, turn which way 
we will. Angelique knows too much, that is clear ; it were 
a charity if it were a safe thing, to kill her too. Cadet ! ” 

“ Not to be thought of. Bigot ; she is too much in 
every man’s eye, and cannot be stowed away in a secret cor- 


THE INTENDANHS DILEMMA. 


545 


ner like her poor victim. A dead silence on every point of 
this cursed business is our only policy^ our only safety/’ 
Cadet had plenty of common sense in the rough, and 
Bigot was able to appreciate it. 

The Intendant strode up and down the room clenching 
his hands in a fury. “ If I were sure ! sure ! she did it ! 
I would kill her by God ! such a damnable cruel deed as 
this would justify any measure of vengeance ! ” exclaimed 
he savagely. 

Pshaw ! not when it would all rebound upon your- 
self. Besides, if you want vengeance, take a man’s revenge 
upon a w^oman, you can do that ! It will be better than 
killing her, much more pleasant, and quite as effectual.” 

Bigot looked as Cadet, said this, and laughed : “You 
would send her to the Parc aux cerfs^ eh, Cadet ? Par 
Dieii ! she would sit on the throne in six months ! ” 

“No, I do not mean the Parc aux cerfs^ but the Chat- 
eau of Beaumanoir. But you are in too ill humor to joke 
to-day. Bigot.” Cadet resumed his pipe with an air of 
nonchalance. 

“ I never was in a worse humor in my life. Cadet ! I 
feel that I have a padlock upon every one of my five 
senses ; and I cannot move hand or foot in this busi- 
ness ? ” 

“ Right, Bigot, do not move hand, or foot, eye, or 
tongue, in it. I tell you the slightest whisper of Caroline’s 
life or death in your house, reaching the ears of Philibert, 
or La Come St. Luc, will bring them to Beaumanoir with 
warrants to search for her. They will pick the chateau to 
pieces stone by stone. They will drag Caroline out of her 
grave, and the whole country will swear you murdered her, 
and that I helped you, and with appearances so strong 
against us, that the mothers who bore us would not 
believe in our innocence ! Damn the women ! The bury- 
ing of that girl was the best deed I did for one of the sex 
in my life, but it will be the worst, if you breathe one 
word of it to Angelique des Meloises, or to any other per- 
son living. I am not ready to lose my head yet. Bigot, 
for the sake of any woman, or even for you ! ” 

The Intendant was staggered by the vehemence of 
Cadet, and impressed by the force of his remarks. It was 
hard to sit down quietly and condone such a crime, but he 
saw clearly the danger of pushing inquiry in any direction 

35 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


546 

without turning suspicion upon himself. He boiled with 
indignation. He fumed and swore worse than his wont 
when angry, but Cadet looked on quietly, smoking his 
pipe, waiting for the storm to calm down. 

“ You were never in a woman’s clutches so tight 
before. Bigot ! ” continued Cadet. ‘‘ If you let La Pompa- 
dour suspect one hair of your head in this matter, she will 
spin a cart rope out of it that will drag you to the Place de 
Greve. 

‘‘ Reason tells me that what you say is true, Cadet,” 
replied Bigot, gloomily. 

“To be sure, but is not Angelique a clever witch to 
bind Francois Bigot neck and heels in that way, after fair- 
ly outwitting and running him down ? ” 

Cadet’s cool comments drove Bigot beside himself. “ I 
will not stand it, by St. Maur ! she shall pay for . all this ! 
I who have caught women all my life, to be caught by one 
thus ! she shall pay for it ! ” 

“ Well, make her pay for it by marrying her ! ” replied 
Cadet. “ Par Dieu ! I am mistaken if you have not got 
to marry her in the end ! I would marry her myself, if you 
do not, only I should be afraid to sleep nights ! I might be 
put under the floor before morning if she liked another 
man better ! ’ ” 

Cadet gave way to a feeling of hilarity at this idea, 
shaking his sides so long and heartily that Bigot caught 
the infection, and joined in with a burst of sardonic laugh- 
ter. 

Bigot’s laughter was soon over, he sat down at the table 
again, and being now calm, considered the whole matter 
over, point by point, with Cadet, who, though coarse and 
unprincipled, was a shrewd councillor in difficulties. 

It was determined between the two men that nothing 
whatever should be said of the assassination. Bigot should 
continue his gallantries to Angelique, and avoid all show 
of suspicion in that quarter. He should tell her of the dis- 
appearance of Caroline, who had gone away, mysteriously 
as she came, but profess absolute ignorance as to her 
fate. 

Angelique would be equally cautious in alluding to the 
murder ; she would pretend to accept all his statements as 
absolute fact. Her tongue, if not her thoughts, would be 
sealed up in perpetual silence on that bloody topic. Bigot 


THE INTENDANHS DILEMMA. 


547 


must feed her with hopes of marriage, and if necessary, set 
a day for it, far enough oif to cover all the time to be taken 
up in the search after Caroline. 

‘‘I will never marry her, Cadet ! ” exclaimed Bigot, ‘‘but 
will make her regret all her life she did not marry me ! ’’ 

“ Take care. Bigot ! It is dangerous playing with fire ! 
you don’t half know Angelique.” 

“ I mean she shall pull the chesnuts out of the fire for 
me with her pretty fingers, until if she burn them.” remark- 
ed Bigot, gruffly. 

“ I would not trust her too far ! In all seriousness, you 
have but the choice of two things. Bigot, marry her or send 
her to the convent.” 

“ I would not do the one, and I could not do the other. 
Cadet,” was Bigot’s prompt reply to this suggestion. 

“Tut! Mere Migeon de la Nativite will respect your 
kttre de cachet^ and provide a close, comfortable cell for 
this pretty penitent in the Ursulines,” said Cadet. 

“ Not she. Mere Migeon gave me one of her parlor 
lectures once, and I care not for another. Egad, Cadet ! 
she made me the nearest of being ashamed of Francois 
Bigot of any one I ever listened to ! Could you have seen 
her, with her veil thrown back, her pale face still paler 
with indignation ; her black eyes looking still blacker 
beneath the white fillet upon her forehead, and then her 
tongue. Cadet I well, I withdrew my proposal and felt my- 
self rather cheapened in the presence of Mere Migeon.” 

“ Aye, I hear she is clipper when she gets a sinner by 
the hair ! What was the proposal you made to her. Bigot ? ” 
asked Cadet, smiling as if he knew. 

“ Oh, it was not worth a livre to make such a row 
about ! I only proposed to send a truant damsel to the con- 
vent to repent of faults, that was all! Mere Migeon 
fired up, ‘ she would not be gaoler for the king,’ she said. 
It was in vain I talked of La Valliere, and threatened her 
with the bishop ; she set me at defiance and bade me 
go marry the girl instead of trying to make a nun of 
her ! ” 

“ But you carried your point, did you not ? She took her 
in at last.” 

“ Not on my account. Cadet, Poor Lucille went in at 
last of her own accord. The sympathizing nuns all cried 
over her and pleaded upon their knees to the Mere super- 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


548 

ior, so long and so hard, that she relented, and took her 
in. But Mere Migeon indignantly refused the dowry I 
offered with her. My little nun is now as happy as a lamb 
in a meadow, and I think as innocent ; for it was all my 
fault. Cadet, was that adventure. But I could never dis- 
pose of Angelique in that way,’’ continued the Intendant 
with a shrug. 

“ Egad ! she will fool any man faster than he can make 
a fool of her ! But I would try Mere Migeon, notwith- 
standing” replied. Cadet, ‘‘ she is the only one to break in 
this wild filly and nail her tongue fast to her prayers ! ” 

It is useless trying. They know Angelique too well. 
She would turn the Convent out of the windows in the 
time of a neuvame. They are all really afraid of her ! ” 
replied Bigot. 

“ Then you must marry her, or do worse, Bigot. I see 
nothing else for it,” was Cadet’s reply. 

Well, I will do worse, if worse can be ; for marry her 
I will not ! ” said Bigot, stamping his foot upon the floor. 

It is understood, then. Bigot ! not a word, a hint, a 
look is to be given to Angelique regarding your suspicions 
of her complicity in this murder !” 

Yes, it is understood. The secret is like the devil’s 
tontine — he catches the last possessor of it.” 

“ I expect to be the last, then, if I keep in your com- 
pany, Bigot,” remarked Cadet. 

Cadet having settled this point to his mind, reclined 
back in his easy chair and smoked on in silence while the 
Intendant kept walking the floor, anxiously, because he 
saw farther than his companion the shadows of coming 
events. 

^Sometimes he stopped impatiently at the window, beat- 
ing a tattoo with his nails on the polished casement as he 
gazed out upon the beautiful parter7‘es of autumnal flowers, 
beginning to shed their petals around the gardens of the 
Palace. He looked at them without seeing them. All 
that caught his eye was a bare rose bush, from which he 
remembered he had plucked some white roses, which he 
had sent to Caroline to adorn her oratory ; and he thought 
of her face, more pale and delicate than any rose of Prov- 
ence that ever bloomed. His thoughts ran violently in 
two parallel streams side by side, neither of them disap- 
pearing for a moment amid the crowd of other affairs 


THE INTENDANT'S DILEMMA. 


549 


that pressed upon his attention — the murder of Caroline 
and the perquisition that was to be made for her in all 
quarters of the colony — His own safety was too deeply 
involved in any discovery that might be made respecting 
her, to allow him to drop the subject out of his thought for 
a moment. 

By imposing absolute silence upon himself in the pres- 
ence of Angelique, touching the death of Caroline, he 
might impose a like silence upon her whom he could not 
acquit of the suspicion of having prompted the murder. 
But the certainty that there was a confederate in the deed 
— a woman, too, judging by the fragment of writing picked 
up by Cadet — tormented him with endless conjectures. 

Still he felt, for the present, secure from any discovery 
on that side ; but how to escape from the sharp inquisition 
of two men like La Come St. Luc and Pierre Philibert? 
and who knew how far the secret of Beaumanoir was a 
secret any longer ? It was known to two women at any 
rate, and no woman, in Bigot’s estimation of the sex, would 
long keep a secret which concerned another and not her- 
self. 

“ Our greatest danger, Cadet, lies there ! ” continued the 
Intendant, stopping in his walk and turning suddenly to 
his friend. “ La Come St. Luc and Pierre Philibert are 
commissioned by the Governor to search for that girl. 
They will not leave a stone unturned, a corner unran 
sacked in New France. They will find out through the 
Hurons and my own servants that a woman has been con- 
cealed in Beaumanoir. They will suspect, if they do not 
discover, who she was. They will not find her on earth — 
they will look for her under the earth. And, by St. Maur! 
it makes me quake to think of it. Cadet, for the discovery 
will be utter ruin ! They may at last dig up her murdered 
remains in my own chateau ! As you said, the Bastile and 
the Place de Greve would be my portion, and ruin yours 
and that of all our associates.” 

Cadet held up his pipe as if appealingly to Heaven 
‘Ht is a cursed reward for our charitable night’s work, 
Bigot,” said he. “Better you had never lied about the 
girl. We could have brazened it out or fought it out with 
the Baron de St. Castin or any man in France ! That lie 
will convict us if found out ! ” 

“ Pshaw ! the lie was a necessity,” answered Bigot, im- 


550 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


patiently. “ But who could have dreamed of its leading us 
such a dance as it has done ! Par Dieu I I have not often 
lied except to women, and such lies do not count.! But I 
had better have stuck to truth in this matter, Cadet. 1 
acknowledge that now.” 

‘‘ Especially with La Pompadour ! She is a woman. 
It is dangerous to lie to her — at least about other women.” 

‘‘ Well, Cadet, it is useless blessing the Pope or ban- 
ning the Devil ! We are in for it, and we must meet La 
Come St. Luc and Pierre Philibert as warily as we can. I 
have been thinking of making safe ground for us to stand 
upon, as the trappers do on the great prairies, by kindling 
a fire in front to escape from the fire in the rear ! ” 

What is that. Bigot ? I could fire the chateau rather 
than be tracked out by La Come and Philibert,” said 
Cadet, sitting upright in his chair. 

‘‘ What, burn the chateau I ” answered Bigot. “ You 
are mad. Cadet I No ; but it were well to kindle such a 
smoke about the eyes of La Come and Philibert that they 
will need to rub them to ease their own pain instead of 
looking for poor Caroline.” 

“ How, Bigot ? Will you challenge and fight them } 
That will not avert suspicion but increase it 1 ” remarked 
Cadet. 

“ Well, you will see I A man will need as many eyes 
as Argus to discover our hands in this business. 

Cadet started, without conjecturing what the Intendant 
contemplated. ‘‘You will kill the bird that tells tales on 
us. Bigot — is that it ? ” added he. 

“ I mean to kill two birds with one stone. Cadet ! Hark 
you j I will tell you a scheme shall put a stop to these 
perquisitions by La Come and Philibert — the only two 
men I fear in the colony — and at the same time deliver me 
from the everlasting bark and bite of the Golden Dog ! ” 

Bigot led Cadet to the window, and poured in his ear 
the burning passions which were fermenting in his own 
breast. He propounded a scheme of deliverance for him- 
self and of crafty vengeance upon the Philiberts, which 
would turn the thoughts of every one away from the chateau 
of Beaumanoir and the missing Caroline, into a new stream 
of public and private troubles, amid the confusion of which 
he would escape, and his present dangers be overlooked 
and forgotten in a great catastrophe that might upset the 


/ WILL FEED FA T THE ANCIENT GRUDGE, &-CT 551 

colony, but at any rate it would free Bigot from his embar- 
rassments and perhaps inaugurate a new reign of public 
plunder and the suppression of the whole party of the 
Honnetes Gens, 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

“ I WILL FEED FAT THE ANCIENT GRUDGE I BEAR HIM.’’ 

T he Treaty of Aix La Chapelle, so long tossed about 
on the waves of war, was finally signed in the beginning 
of October. A swift-sailing goelette of Dieppe brought the 
tidings to New France, and in the early nights of Novem- 
ber, from Quebec to Montreal. Bonfires on every headland 
blazed over the broad river ; churches were decorated with 
evergreens, and te deums sung in gratitude for the return of 
peace and security to the colony. 

New France came out of the struggle scathed and 
scorched as by fire, but unshorn of territory or territorial 
rights ; and the glad colonists forgot and forgave the terri- 
ble sacrifices they had made in the universal joy that their 
country, their religion, language, and laws were still safe 
under the Crown of France, with the white banner still 
floating over the Castle of St. Louis. 

On the day after the arrival of the Dieppe goelette, 
bringing the news of peace,Bigot sat before his desk, reading 
his despatches and letters from PTance, when the Chevalier 
de Pean entered the room with a bundle of papers in his 
hand, brought to the palace by the Chief Clerk of the 
Bourgeois Philibert, for the Intendant’s signature. 

The Bourgeois, in the course of his great commercial 
dealings, got possession of innumerable orders upon the 
Roystl Treasury, which in due course had to be presented 
to the Intendant for his official signature. The signing of 
these Treasury orders in favor of the Bourgeois, never failed 
to throw Bigot into a fit of ill-humor. 

On the present occasion he sat down muttering ^ten 
thousand curses upon the Bourgeois, as he glanced over 
the papers with knitted eyebrows and teeth set hard to- 
gether. He signed the mass of orders and drafts made 


552 


■ THE CHIEH H OR, 


payable to Nich'^las Philibert, and when done, threv/ into 
the fire the pen which had performed so unwelcome an 
office. Bigot sent for the Chief Clerk who had brought 
the bills and orders, and who waited for them in the ante- 
chamber. ‘‘ Tell your master, the Bourgeois,” said he, 
that for this time, and only to prevent loss to the foolish 
officers, the Intendant has signed these army bills ; but 
that if he purchase more, in defiance of the sole right of 
the Grand Company, I shall not sign them. This shall be 
the last time, tell him ! ” 

The Chief Clerk, a sturdy, grey-haired Malouin^ v/as 
nothing daunted by the angry look of the Intendant. ‘‘ I 
shall inform the Bourgeois of your Excellency’s wishes,” 
said he, ‘‘ and — ” 

“ Inform him of* my commands ! ” exclaimed Bigot, 
sharply. “ What ! have you more to say ? But you would 
not be the Chief Clerk of the Bourgeois without possessing 
a‘ good stock of his insolence ! ” 

“ Pardon me, your Excellency ! ” replied the Chief 
Clerk, “ I was only going to observe that His Excellency 
the Governor and the Commander of the Forces, both, 
have decided that the officers may transfer their warrants 
^ to whomsoever they will.” 

You are a bold fellow, with your Breton speech ! but 
by all the saints in Saintonge ! I will see whether the 
Royal Intendant or the Bourgeois Philibert shall control 
this matter ! And as for you — ” 

“Tut ! cave cane77i I let this cur go back to his master,” 
interrupted Cadet, amused at the coolness of the Chief 
Clerk. “ Hark you, fellow ! ” said he, “ present my com- 
pliments — the Sieur Cadet’s compliments — to your master, 
and tell him I hope he will bring his next batch of army 
bills himself, and remind him that it is soft falling at low 
tide out of the windows of the Frip07i7ie 

“I shall certainly advise my master not to comejiim- 
self, Sieur Cadet,” replied the Chief Clerk ; “ and I am 
very certain of returning in three days with more army 
bills for the signature of His Excellency the Intendant.” 

“ Get out, you fool ! ” shouted Cadet, laughing at what 
he regarded the insolence of the Clerk. “ You are worthy 
of your master ! ” And Cadet pushed him forcibly out of 
the door, and shut it after him with a bang that resounded 
through the palace. 


« / WILL FEED FA T THE ANCIENT GRUDGE, &>CT 553 

Don’t be angry at him, Bigot ; he is not worth it,” 
said Cadet. ‘ Like master like man,’ as the proverb says. 
And, after all, I doubt whether the furred law cats of the 
Parliament of Paris would not uphold the Bourgeois in an 
appeal to them from the Golden Dog.” 

Bigot was excessively irritated, for he was lawyer 
enough to know that Cadet’s fear was well founded. He 
walked up and down his cabinet, venting curses upon the 
heads of the whole party of the Honnetes Gens, the Gover- 
nor and Commander of the Forces included. The Mar- 
quise de Pompadour, too, came in for a full share of his 
maledictions, for Bigot knew that she had forced the sign- 
ing of the treaty of Aix La Chapelle — influenced less by 
the exhaustion of France than by a feminine dislike to 
camp life, which she had shared with the King, and a 
resolution to withdraw him back to the gayeties of the 
Capital, where he would be wholly under her own eye and 
influence. 

“ She prefers love to honor, as all women do !” remarked 
Bigot ; “ and likes money better than either. The Grand 
Company pays the fiddlers for the royal fetes at Versailles, 
while the Bourgeois Philibert skims the cream off the trade 
of the colony. This peace will increase his power and 
make his influence double what it is already ! ” 

‘‘ Egad ! Bigot,” replied Cadet, who sat near him, smok; 
ing a large pipe of tobacco. You speak like a preacher 
in Lent. We have hitherto buttered our bread on both 
sides, but the Company will soon, I fear, have no bread to 
butter ! I doubt we shall have to eat your decrees, which 
will be the only things left in the possession of the Frip- 
onne ! ” 

‘‘ My decrees have been hard to digest for some people 
who think they will now eat us. Look at that pile of 
order-s. Cadet, in favor of the Golden Dog ! ” 

The Intendant had long regarded with indignation the 
ever increasing trade and influence of the Bourgeois Phili- 
bert, who had become the great banker as well as the great 
merchant of the Colony, able to meet the Grand Company 
itself upon its own ground, and fairly divide with it the 
interior as well as the exterior commerce of the colony. 

‘‘ Where is this thing going to end ? ” exclaimed Bigot, 
sweeping from him the pile of bills of exchange that lay 
upon the table. “ That Philibert is gaining ground upon 


S54 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


US every day ! He is now buying up army bills, and even 
the King’s officers are flocking to him with th^ir certifi- 
cates of pay and drafts on France, which he cashes at half 
the discount charged by the Company ! ” 

“ Give the cursed papers to the clerk and send him off, 
De Pean ! ” said Bigot. 

De Pean obeyed with a grimace, and returned. 

This thing must be stopped and shall! ” continued 
the Intendant savagely. 

That is true, your Excellency,” said De Pean. “ And 
we have tried vigorously to stop the evil, but so far in vain. 
The Governor and the Honnetes Gens^ and too many of the 
officers themselves, countenance his opposition to the Com- 
pany. The Bourgeois draws a good bill upon Paris and 
Bordeaux ; and they are fast finding it out.” 

The Golden Dog is drawing half the money of the 
colony into his coffers, and he will blow up the credit of 
the Friponne some fine day when we least expect it, unless 
he be chained up,” replied Bigot. 

\A mechant chien court lien^^ says the proverb, and so 
say I,” replied Cadet. The Golden Dog has barked at 
us for a long time — -par dieu ! he bites now I — ere long he 
will gnaw our bones in reality as he does in effigy, upon 
that cursed tablet in the Rue Buade.” 

Every dog has his day, and the Golden Dog has nearly 
had his. Cadet. But what do you advise ? ” asked Bigot. 

“ Hang him up with a short rope and a shorter shrift, 
Bigot ! You have warrant enough if your court friends are 
worth half a handful of chaff.” 

‘‘ But they are not worth half a handful of chaff. Cadet. 
If I hung the Bourgeois there would be such a cry raised 
among the Honnetes Gens in the colony, and the whole 
tribe of Jansenists in France, that I doubt whether even 
the power of the Marquise could sustain me.” 

Cadet looked quietly truculent. He drew Bigot aside. 

There are more ways than one to choke a dog, Bigot,” 
said he. You may put a tight collar outside his throat 
or a sweetened roll inside of it. Some course must be 
found, and that promptly. We shall, before many days, 
have La Come St. Luc and young Philibert, like a couple 
of stag hounds in full cry, at our heels, about that business 
at the chateau. They must be thrown off that scent, come 
what will, Bigot I ” 


« / WILL FEED FA T THE ANCIENT GRUDGE, 555 

The pressure of time and circumstance was drawing 
a narrower circle round th^ Intendant. The advent of 
peace would, he believed, inaugurate a personal war against 
himself. The murder of Caroline was a hard blow, and 
the necessity of concealing it irritated him with a sense of 
fear, foreign to his character. 

His suspicion of Angelique tormented him day and 
night. He had loved Angelique in a sensual, admiring 
way, without one grain of real respect. He worshipped 
her one moment as the Aphrodite of his fancy ; he was 
ready to strip and scourge her the next as the possible 
murderess of Caroline. But Bigot had fettered himself 
with a lie, and had to hide his thoughts under degrading 
concealments. He knew the Marquise de Pompadour was 
jealously watching him from afar. The sharpest intellects 
and most untiring men in the colony were commissioned to 
find out the truth regarding the fate of Caroline. Bigot 
was like a stag brought to bay. An ordinary man would 
have succumbed in despair, but the very desperation of his 
position stirred up the Intendant to a greater effort to free 
himself. He cared nothing for the morality or immorality 
of any course, if it only ensured success and brought 
safety ! 

He walked gloomily up and down the room, absorbed 
in deep thonght. Cadet, who guessed what was brooding 
in his mind, made a sign to De Pean to nvait and see what 
would be the result of his cogitations. 

Bigot, gesticulating with his right hand and his left, 
went on balancing, as in a pair of scales, the chances of 
success or failure in the blow he meditated against the 
Golden Dog. A blow which would scatter to the winds the 
inquisition set on foot to discover the hiding-place of Caro- 
line. 

He stopped suddenly in his walk, striking both hands 
together, as if in sign of some resolution arrived at in his 
thoughts. 

“ De Pean!” said he; ‘‘has Le Gardeur de Repen- 
tigny shown any desire yet to break out of the palace ? ” 

“None, your Excellency. He is fixed as a bridge to 
fortune. You can no more break him down than the Pont 
JNeiif at Paris. He lost, last night, a thousand at cards 
and five hundred at dice ; then drank himself dead drunk 
until three o’clock this afternoon. He has just risen ; his 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


556 

valet was washing his head and feet in brandy when I came 
here.’^ 

‘‘You are a friend that sticks closer than a brother, 
De Pean. Le Gardeur believes in you as his guardian 
angel, does he not ? ’’ asked Bigot, with a sneer. 

“ When he is drunk he does,” replied De Pean ; “ when 
he is sober I care not to approach him too nearly ! He is 
a wild colt that will kick his groom when rubbed the wrong 
way ; and every way is wrong when the wine is out of 
him.” 

“ Keep him full then ! ” exclaimed Bigot, “ you have groom 
ed him well, De Pean ! but he must now be saddled and 
ridden to hunt down the biggest stag, in New France ! ” 

De Pean looked hard at the Intendant, only half compre- 
hending his allusion, “You once tried your hand with Ma- 
demoiselle de Repentigny did you not } ” continued Bigot — • 

“ I did, your Excellency ? but that bunch of grapes was 
too high for me. They are very sour now.” 

“ Sly fox that you were ? Well, do not call them sour 
yet, De Pean. Another jump at the vine and you may reach 
that bunch of perfection ! ” said Bigot, looking hard at him. 

“Your Excellency overrates my ability in that quarter and 
if I were permitted to choose — ” 

“ Another and a fairer maid would be your choice. I see, 
De Pean, you are a connoisseur in women. Be it as you 
wish ! manage this business of Philibert discreetly and I 
will coin the Golden Dog into doubloons for a marriage 
portion for Angelique des Meloises ? You understand me 
now } ” 

De Pean started. He hardly guessed yet what was 
required of him, but he cared not in the dazzling prospect 
of such a wife and fortune, as were thus held out to him. 

“Your Excellency will really support my suit with 
Angelique ? ” De Pean seemed to mistrust the possibility of 
such a piece of disinterestedness on the part of the In- 
tendant. 

“I will not only commend your suit, but I will give 
away the bride, and Madame De Pean shall not miss any 
favor from me which she has deserved as Angelique des 
Meloises,” — was Bigot’s reply without changing a muscle of 
his face. 

“ And your Excellency will give her to me ? ” De Pean 
could hardly believe his ears. 


« I WILL FEED FAT THE ANCIENT GRUDGE;^ 557 

Assuredly you shall have her if you like/’ cried Bigot, 

“ and with a dowry as has not been seen in New France ! ” 

But who would like to have her at any pi ice ? ” muttered 
Cadet to himself, with a quiet smile of contempt— Cadet 
thought De Bean a fool for jumping at a hook baited with a 
woman, but he knew what the Intendant was driving at 
and admired the skill with which he angled for De Bean ! 

“ But Angelique may not consent to this disposal of her 
hand,” replied De Bean with an uneasy look, “ I should be 
afraid of your gift unless she believed that she took me, 
and not I her.” 

Hark you, de Bean ! you do not know what women 
like her are made of, or you would be at no loss how to 
bait your hook ! You have made four millions they say, out 
of this war, if not more ! ” 

I never counted it, your Excellency, but much or little 
I owe it all to your friendship,” replied De Bean with a 
touch of mock humility. 

My friendship ! Well, so be it. It is enough to make * 
Angelique des Meloises Madame De Bean when she finds 
she cannot be Madame Intendant. Do you see your way 
now, De Bean ! ” 

“ Yes, your Excellency, and I cannot be sufficiently 
grateful for such a proof of your goodness.” Bigot laughed 
a dry meaning laugh. I truly hope you will always 
think so of my friendship, De Bean ! If you do not, you 
are not the man I take you to be ? now for our scheme of 
deliverance ! ” 

‘‘ Hearken, De Bean,” continued the Intendant fixing 
his dark fiery eyes upon his secretary, you have craft and 
cunning to work out this design and good will to hasten it 
on. Cadet and I considering the necessities of the Grand 
Company have resolved to put an end to the rivalry and 
arrogance of the Golden Dog. We will treat the Bourgeois,” 
Bigot smiled meaningly, “ not as a trader with a baton, but 
as a gentleman with a sword ; for although a merchant, the 
Bourgeois is noble and wears a sword which under proper 
provocation he will draw, and remember he can use it too ! 
He can be tolerated no longer by the gentlemen of the 
Company. They have often pressed me in vain to take this 
step, but I now yield. Hark, De Bean ! The Bourgeois must 
be insulted^ challe7iged and killed by some gentleman of the 
Company, with courage and skill enough to champion its 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


5SS 

rights. But mind you ! it must be done fairly and in open 
day and without my knowledge or approval ! Do you 
understand 1 

Bigot winked at De Bean and smiled furtively as much 
as to say : “You know how to interpret my words !’’ 

“ I understand your Excellency ! and it shall be nc 
fault of mine if your wishes, which chime with my own, be 
not carried out before many days. A dozen partners of the 
Company will be proud to fight with the Bourgeois if he 
will only fight with them.” 

“ No fear of that, De Bean ! give the devil his due. Insult 
the Bourgeois and he will fight with the seven champions of 
Christendom ! so mind you get a man able for him ! for I tell 
you, De Bean, I doubt if there be over three gentlemen in 
the colony who could cross swords fairly and successfully 
with the Bourgeois.” 

“ it will be easier to insult and kill him in a chance 
^medley than to risk a duel ! ” interrupted Cadet, who list- 
ened with intense eagerness. “ I tell you. Bigot ! young 
Bhilibert will pink any man of our party. If there be a 
duel he will insist on fighting it for his father. The old 
Bourgeois will not be caught, but we shall catch a tartar 
instead in the young one.” 

“ Well duel or chance medley be it ! I dare not have 
him assassinated,” replied the Intendant, “ He must be 
fought with in open day and not killed in a corner. Eh, 
Cadet ! am I not right ? ” 

Bigot looked for approval from Cadet, who saw that he 
was thinking of the secret chamber at Beaumanoir. 

“ You are right. Bigot ! He must be killed in open day 
and not in a corner. But who have we among us capable of 
making sure work of the Bourgeois ? ” 

“ Leave it to me,” replied De Bean ! “ I know one partner 
of the company who if I can get him in harness will run our 
chariot wheels in triumph over the Golden Dog.” 

“ And who is that ? ” asked Bigot eagerly. 

“ La Gardeur de Repentigny ! ” exclaimed De Bean, 
with a look of exultation. 

“ Bshaw ! he would draw upon us more readily ! Why 
he is bewitched with the Bhiliberts ! ” replied Bigot. 

“ I shall find means to break the spell long enough to 
answer our purpose, your Excellency ! ” replied De Bean. 
“ Bermit me only to take my own way with him.” 


« / WILL FEED FA T THE ANCIENT GRUDGE, 6 - 6 ". 559 

“Assuredly, take your own way, De Pean ! A bloody 
scuffle between De Repentigny and the Bourgeois, would 
not only be a victory for the company but would break up 
the whole party of the Honnetes Gens 

The Intendant slapped De Pean on the shoulder and 
shook him by the hand. “You are more clever than I 
believed you to be, De Pean. You have hit on a mode of 
riddance which will entitle you to the best reward in the 
power of the company to bestow.” 

“ My best reward will be the fulfilment of your promise, 
your Excellency,” answered De Pean. 

“ I will keep my word, De Pean I By God you shall 
have Angelique with such a dowry as the company can 
alone give ! or if you do not want the girl, you shall have 
the dowry without the wife ! ” 

“ I shall claim both, your Excellency ! but — ” 

“ But what ? confess all your doubts, De Pean ! ” 

“Le Gardeur may claim her as his own reward ! ” De 
Pean guessed correctly enough the true bent of Angelique’s 
fancy. 

“No fear ! Le Gardeur de Repentigny drunk or sober is 
a gentleman. He would reject the princess d’Elide were 
she offered on such conditions as yofi take her on. He is 
a romantic fool ; he believes in woman’s virtue and all that 
stuff ! ” 

“ Besides if he kill the Bourgeois he will have to fight 
Pierre Philibert before his sword is dry ! ” interjected 
Cadet. “ I would not give a Dutch stiver for Le Gardeur’s 
bones five hours after he has pinked the Bourgeois ! ” 

The prospect, nay, the certainty of a second duel 
between Le Gardeur and Pierre Philibert, should the 
Bourgeois be killed, satisfied all the doubts of De Pean, 
who felt himself secure in the reversion of Angelique and 
the rich dowry promised by the Intendant. 

They were now all eager to set on foot the diabolical 
scheme of murder. These thorough men of the age, glossed 
over it as a legitimate compromise between honor and 
necessity. The Bourgeois was to be killed, but in a way 
to reflect no discredit either upon the contrivers of his 
death or upon the unwitting instrument selected to accom- 
plish it. 

An open duel in form was not to be thought of, because 
in that they would have to fight the son and not the father. 


THE CHIEN D’ OR. 


560 

and the great object would be frustrated. But the Bour- 
geois might be killed in a sudden fray, when blood was up 
and swords drawn, when no one, as De Pean remarked,’’ 
would be able to find an / undotted or a 7" uncrossed in a 
fair record of the transaction, which would impose upon 
the most critical judge as an honorable and justifiable act 
of self defence ! 

This was Cadet’s real intent, and perhaps Bigot’s, but 
the Intendant’s thoughts lay at unfathomable depths, and 
were not to be discovered by any traces upon the surface. 
No divining rod could tell where the secret spring lay hid 
which ran under Bigot’s motives. 

Not so De Pean. He meditated treachery and it were 
hard to say, whether it was unnoted by the penetrating 
eye of Bigot. The Intendant, however, did not interfere 
farther, either by word or sign, but left De Pean to accom- 
plish in his own way the bloody object they all had in 
view, namely, the death of the Bourgeois and the break up 
of the Honnetes Gens, De Pean, while resolving to make 
Le Gardeur the tool of his wickedness, did not dare to take 
him into his confidence. He had to be kept in absolute 
ignorance of the part he was to play in the bloody tragedy 
until the moment of its denouement arrived. Meantime he 
must be plied with drink, maddened with jealousy, made 
desperate with losses and at war with himself and all the 
world, and then. the whole fury of his rage should by the 
artful contrivance of De Pean be turned without a minutes 
time for reflection, upon the head of the unsuspecting 
Bourgeois. 

To accomplish this successfully, a woman’s aid was 
required, at once to blind Le Gardeur and to sharpen his 
sword. 

In the interests of the corripany Angelique des Meloises 
was at all times a violent partizan. The Golden Dog and 
all its belongings were objects of her open aversion. But 
De Pean feared to impart to her his intention to push Le 
Gardeur blindly into the affair. She might fear for the 
life of one she loved. De Pean reflected angrily on this, 
but he determined she should be on the spot. The sight 
of her and a word from her, which De Pean would prompt 
at the critical moment, should decide Le Gardeur to attack 
ihe Bourgeois and kill him ! and then, what would follow ? 
De Pean rubbed his hands with ecstasy at the thought that 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT. 


561 


Le Gardeur would inevitably bite the dust under the 
avenging hand of Pierre Philibert, and Angelique would be 
his beyond all fear of rivals. 


CHAPTER L. 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT. 


HE Bourgeois Philibert after an arduous day’s work 



J- was enjoying in his arm chair a quiet siesta in the old 
comfortable parlor of his city home. 

The sudden advent of peace had opened the seas to 
commerce, and a fleet of long shut up merchantmen were 
rapidly loading at the quays of the Friponne as well as at 
those of the Bourgeois, with the products of the Colony 
for shipment to France before the closing in of the St. 
Lawrence by ice. The summer of St. Martin was linger- 
ing soft and warm on the edge of winter, and every avail- 
able man, including the soldiers of the garrison, were busy 
loading the ships to get them off in time to escape the 
hard nip of winter. 

Dame Rochelle sat near the window, which to-day was 
open to the balmy air. She was occupied in knitting and 
occasionally glancing at a volume of Jurieu’shard Calvin- 
istic divinity which lay upon the table beside her. Her 
spectacles reposed upon the open page where she had 
laid them down, while she meditated, as was her custom 
upon knotty points of doctrine, touching free will, neces- 
sity, and election by grace ; regarding works as a garment 
of filthy rags in which publicans and sinners who trusted 
in them were damned, while in practice the good soul was 
as earnest in performing them, as if she believed her salva- 
tion depended exclusively thereupon. 

Like many of the Huguenots, despite a narrow and 
partial creed, her life of pure morality made smooth a 
hundred inconsistencies of belief. The Dame found in 
practice no difficulty in reconciling contradictions of doc- 
trine which to less earnest Christians seemed impossible to 
be harmonized. She had long ago received the blessing 


36 


THE CHIEH UOR. 


562 

pronounced upon the pure in heart, that they should see 
God. It is the understanding which is of the heart that 
alone co'mprehends spiritual facts, and sees spiritual truths, 
as the presence of summer light and warmth bring the 
flowers out of the dark earth, and fill it with abundance. 

Dame Rochelle had received. a new lease of life by the 
return home of Pierre Philibert. She grew radiant, almost 
gay, at the news of his betrothal to Amelie de Repentigny, 
and although she could not lay aside the black puritanical 
garb she had worn so many years, her kind face brightened 
from its habitual seriousness. The return of Pierre broke 
in upon her quiet routine of living, like a prolonged festi- 
val. The preparation of the great house of Belmont for 
his young bride completed her happiness. 

In her anxiety to discover the tastes and preferences of 
her young mistress, as she already called her. Dame Ro- 
chelle consulted Amelie on every point of her arrangements, 
finding her own innate sense of the beautiful quickened by 
contact with that fresh young nature. She was already 
drawn by that infallible attraction which every one felt in 
the presence of Amelie. 

‘‘ Amelie was too good and too fair,’’ the dame said, to 
become any man’s portion but Pierre Philibert’s ! ” 

The Dame’s Huguenot prejudices melted like wax in 
her presence, until Amelie almost divided with Grande 
Marie, the saint of the Cevennes, the homage and blessing 
of Dame Rochelle. 

Those were days of unalloyed delight which she spent in 
superintending the arrangements for the marriage which 
had been fixed for the festivities of Christmas. 

It w^as to be celebrated on a scale worthy of the rank 
of the heiress of Repentigny and of the wealth of the Phil- 
iberts. The rich Bourgeois, in the gladness of his heart, 
threw open all his coffers, and blessed with tears of hap- 
piness the money he flung out with both hands to honor 
the nuptials of Pierre and Amelie. 

The summer of St. Martin was shining over the face of 
nature. Its golden beams penetrated the very heart of the 
Bourgeois, and illumined all his thoughts. Winter might 
not be far off, but with peace in the land, its coming, if 
rough, was welcome. Storms and tempests might be under 
the horizon, but he saw them not, and heeded them not. 
His chief care in life was now to see Pierre married, and 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT. 563 

secure in the love of Amelie De Repentigny. After that 
the Bourgeois was ready to bid a hard world farewell, and 
say with devout Simeon, “ Nimc dhnittis servum tiium^ 
Domine / in pace / 

The Bourgeois was profoundly happy during those few 
brief days of Indian summer. As a Christian he rejoiced 
that the long desolating war was over. As a colonist, he 
felt a pride that, unequal as had been the struggle. New 
France remained unshorn of territory, and by its resolute 
defence had forced respect from even its enemies. In his 
eager hope, he saw commerce revive and the arts and com- 
forts of peace take the place of war and destruction ! The 
husbandman would now reap for himself the harvest he had 
sown, and no longer be crushed by the exactions of the 
Friponne ! 

There was hope for the country. The iniquitous regime 
of the Intendant, which had pleaded the war as its justifi- 
cation, must close, the Bourgeois thought, under the new 
conditions of peace. The hateful monopoly of the grand 
company must be overthrown by the constitutional action 
of the hofinetes gens.^ and its condemnation by the parliament 
of Paris, to which an appeal would presently be carried, it 
was hoped, would be secured. 

The king was quarrelling with the Jesuits. The Moli- 
nists were hated by La Pompadour, and he was certain 
his majesty would never hold a lit de justice to command 
the registration of the decrees issued in his name by the 
Intendant of New France after they had been in form con- 
demned by the parliament of Paris. Such formed the sub- 
jects of the meditations of the Bourgeois. 

Dame Rochelle continued plying her needles quietly as 
she meditated by turns upon the page of Jurieu, by turns 
upon the marriage of Pierre Philibert, illustrating the one 
by the other, and proving to her own perfect content that 
this marriage had been from all time predestinate, and that 
the doctrine of her favorite divine never received a more 
striking demonstration of its truth than in the life-long 
constancy of Pierre and Amelie to their first love. 

The Bourgeois still reclined very still on his easy" chair. 
He was not asleep. In the day time he never slept. His 
thoughts, like the dame’s, reverted to Pierre. He medi- 
tated the repurchase of his ancestral home in Normandy, 
and the restoration of its ancient honors for his son. 


564 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


Personal and political enmity might prevent the rever- 
sal of his own unjust condemnation, but Pierre had won 
renown in the recent campaigns. He was favored with 
the friendship of many of the noblest personages in France, 
who would support his suit for the restoration of his family 
honors, while the all-potent influence of money, the open 
sesame of every door in the Palace of Versailles, would 
not be spared to advance his just claims. 

The crown of the Bourgeois’ ambition would be to see 
Pierre restored to his ancestral chateau as the Count de 
Philibert, and Amelie as its noble Chatelaine, dispensing 
happiness among the faithful old servitors and vassals of 
his family, who in all these long years of his exile never 
forgot their brave old seigneur, who had been banished to 
New France. 

His reflections took a practical turn, and he enumerated 
in his mind the friends he could count upon in France to 
support, and the enemies who were sure to oppose the at- 
tainment of this great object of his ambition. But the 
purchase of the chateau and lands of Philibert was in his 
power. Its present possessor, a needy courtier, was deeply 
in debt, and’ would be glad, the Bourgeois had ascertained, 
to sell the estates for such a price as he could easily offer 
him. 

To sue for simple justice in the restoration of his inher- 
itance would be useless. It would involve a life-long liti- 
gation. The Bourgeois preferred buying it back at what- 
ever price, so that he could make a gift of it at once to his 
son, and he had already instructed his bankers in Paris to 
pay the price asked by its owner, and forward to him the 
deeds, which he was ambitious to present to Pierre and 
Amelie on the day of their marriage. 

The Bourgeois at last looked up from his revery. Dame 
Rochelle closed her book, waiting for her master’s com- 
mands. 

“ Has Pierre returned. Dame ? ” asked he. 

“No, master ; he bade me say he was going to accom- 
pany Mademoiselle Amelie to Lorette.” 

“ Ah ! Amelie had a vow to our lady of St. Foye, and 
Pierre, I warrant, desired to pay half the debt ! What 
think you. Dame, of your godson.^ Is he not promising.^’' 
The Bourgeois laughed quietly, as was his wont some- 
times. 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT. 


565 

Dame Rochelle sat a shade more upright in her chair. 
‘‘ Pierre is worthy of Amelie and Amelie of him,” replied 
she gravely ; ‘‘ never were two out of heaven more fitly 
matched. If they make vows to the Lady of St. Foye they 
will pay them as religiously as if they had made them to 
the Most High, to whom we are commanded to pay our 
vows ! ” 

The good old Huguenot would have censured a vow to 
our Lady of St. Foye in any other but Amelie and Pierre. 

“Well, Dame, some turn to the east and some to the 
west to pay their vows, but the holiest shrine is where true 
love is, and there alone the oracle speaks in response to 
young hearts. Amelie, sweet, modest flower that she is, 
pays her vows to our Lady of St. Foye, Pierre his to 
Amelie ! I will be bound. Dame, there is no saint in the 
calendar so holy in his eyes as herself ! ” 

“ Nor deserves to be, master ! Their’s is no ordinary 
affection. If love be the fulfilling of the law, all law is 
fulfilled in these two, for never did the elements of hap- 
piness mingle more sweetly in the soul of a man and a 
woman than in Pierre and- Amelie ! ” 

“ It will restore your youth. Dame, to live with Pierre 
and Amelie,” replied the Bourgeois. “ Amelie insists on 
it, not because of Pierre, she says, but for your own sake. 
She was moved to tears one day. Dame, when she. made 
me relate your story.” 

Dame Rochelle put on her spectacles to cover her eyes, 
which were fast filling, as she glanced down on the black 
robe she wore, remembering for whom she wore it. 

“ Thanks, master. It would be a blessed thing to end 
the remaining days of my mourning in the house of Pierre 
and Amelie, but my quiet mood suits better the house of 
my master, who has also had his heart saddened by a long 
long day of darkness and regret.” 

“Yes, Dame, but a bright sunset, I trust, awaits it now. 
The descending shadow of the dial goes back a pace on 
the fortunes of my house ! I hope to welcome my few re- 
maining years with a gayer aspect and a lighter heart than 
I have felt since we were driven from France. What would 
you say to see us all reunited once more in our old Norman 
home ? ” 

The Dame gave a great start, and clasped her thin 
hands. 


THE CHIEH H OR. 


566 

‘‘What would I say, master ? O ! to return to France, 
and be buried in the green valley of the Cote d’Or by the 
side of him, were next to rising in the resurrection of the 
just at the last day ! ’’ 

The Bourgeois knew well whom she meant by him. He 
reverenced her feeling, but continued the topic of a return 
to France.’’ 

“ Well, Dame, I will do for Pierre what I would not do 
for myself. I shall repurchase the old Chateau, and use 
every influence at my command to prevail on the king to 
restore to Pierre the honors of his ancestors. Will not that 
be a glorious end to the career of the Bourgeois Philibert ! ” 

“Yes, master, but it may not end there for you ! I hear 
from my quiet window rqany things spoken in the street 
below. Men love you so, and need you so, that they will 
not spare any supplication to bid you stay in the colony ! and 
you will stay and die where you have lived so many years, 
under the shadow of the Golden Dog ! Some men hate 
you, too, because you love justice and stand up for the 
right. I have a request to make, dear master.” 

“What is that. Dame.?” asked he kindly, prepared to 
grant any request of hers. 

“ Do not go to the market to-morrow ! ” replied she, 
earnestly. , . 

The Bourgeois glanced sharply at the Dame, who con- 
tinued to ply her needles. Her eyes were half closed in a 
semi-trance, their lids trembling with nervous excitement. 
One of her moods rare of late was upon her, and she con- 
tinued — 

“O ! my dear master, you will never go to France ; 
but Pierre shall inherit the honors of the house of Phili- 
bert !” 

The Bourgeois, looked up contentedly. He respected 
.without putting entire faith in Dame Rochelle’s inspirations : 
“ I shall be resigned,” he said, “ not to see France again, 
if the king’s majesty makes it a condition, that he restore 
to Pierre the dignity, while I give him back the domain, of 
his fathers.” 

Dame Rochelle clasped her hands hard together and 
sighed. She spake not, but her lips moved in prayer as if 
deprecating some danger, or combatting some presentiment 
of evil. 

The Bourgeois watched her narrowly. Her moods of 


I 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT. 


567 

devout contemplation sometimes perplexed his clear worldly 
wisdom. He could scarcely believe that her intuitions were 
other than the natural result of a wonderfully sensitive and 
apprehensive nature ; still in his experience he had found 
that her fancies, if not supernatural, were not unworthy of 
regard as the sublimation of reason by intellectual processes 
of which the possessor was unconscious. 

“ You again see trouble in store for me, Dame ! ” said 
he smiling, “ but a merchant of New France setting at 
defiance the decrees of the Ro3^al Intendant, an exile 
seeking from the king the restoration of the lordship of 
Philibert, may well have trouble on his hands.’’ 

‘‘ Yes, master, but as yet I only see trouble like a 
misty cloud which as yet has neither form nor color of 
its own, but only reflects red rays as of a setting sun. No 
Voice from its midst tells me its meaning, I thank God' for 
that ! I like not to anticipate evil that may not be 
averted ! ” 

Whom does it touch ? Pierre or Amalie, me, or all of 
us ? ” asked the Bourgeois. 

“ All of us, master } How could any misfortune do 
other than concern us all ? What it means I know not. It is 
now like the wheel seen by the Prophet, full of eyes within 
and without, like God’s providence looking for his elect.” 

‘‘ And finding them ? ” 

“Not yet Master, but ere long ! finding all ere long! ” 
replied she in a dreamy manner. “ But go not to the market 
to-morrow ! ” 

“These are strange fancies of yours. Dame Rochelle I 
Why caution me against the market to-morrow ? It is the 
day of St. Martin, the poor will expect me ! if I go not, 
many will return empty away.” 

“ They are not wholly fancies. Master: Two gentlemen 
of the Palace passed to-day and looking up at the tablet, 
one wagered the other on the battle to-morrow between 
Cerberus and the Golden Dog. I have not forgotten 
wholly my earl}" lessons in classical lore,” added the Dame. 

“ Nor I, Dame ! I comprehend the allusion ! but it 
will not keep me from the Market 1 I will be watchful 
however for I know that the malice of my enemies is at 
this time greater than ever before.” 

“ Let Pierre go with you and you will be safe 1 ” said the 
Dame, half imploringly. 


S68 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


The Bourgeois laughed at the suggestion and began 
good humoredly to rally her on her curious gift and on 
the inconvenience of having a prophetess in his house 
to anticipate the evil day. 

“Philip the Evangelist/’ said she, “had four daughters 
in his house, virgins who did prophecy, and it is not said he 
complained of it, master !” replied the Dame with a slight 
smile. 

“ But Philip had evangelical grace to support him under 
it. Dame ! ” said the Bourgeois smiling. “ I think with the 
preacher, it is best not to be wise overmuch. I would not 
look too far before or after.” 

Dame Rochelle would not say more. She knew that to 
express her fears more distinctly would only harden the 
resolution of the Bourgeois. His natural courage wopld 
make him court the special danger he ought to avoid. 

“ Master ! ” said she, suddenly casting her eyes in the 
street, “ there rides past one of the gentlemen who wagered 
on the battle between Cerberus and the Golden Dog.” 

The Bourgeois had sufficient curiosity to look out. He 
recognized the Chevalier De Pean, and tranquilly resumed 
his seat with the remark, that “ that was truly one of the 
heads of Cerberus which guards the Friponne, a fellow who 
wore the collar of the Intendant and was worthy of it ! the 
Golden Dog had nothing to fear from him ! ” 

Dame Rochelle, full of her own thoughts, followed with 
her eyes the retreating figure of the Chevalier De Pean, 
whom she lost sight of at the first turn, as he rode rapidly 
to the house of Angelique des Meloises. Since the fatal eve 
of St. Michael, Angelique had been tossing in a sea of conflic- 
ting emotions, sometimes brightened by a wild hope of the 
Intendant, sometimes darkened with fear of the discovery of 
her dealings with La Corriveau. 

It was in vain she tried every artifice of female blan- 
dishment and cunning to discover what was really in the 
heart and mind of Bigot. She had sounded his soul to 
try if he entertained a suspicion of herself, but its depth was 
beyond her power to reach its bottomless darkness, and to 
the last she could not resolve whether he suspected her or 
not, of complicity with the death of the unfortunate 
Caroline. 

She never ceased to curse La Corriveau for that felon 
stroke of her mad stiletto which changed what might have 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT. 569 

passed for a simple death by heartbreak, into a foul assas 
sinalion. 

The Intendant she knew must be well aware that 
Caroline had been murdered ; but he had never named it, or 
given the least token of consciousness that such a crime 
had been committed in his house. 

It was in vain that she repeated with a steadiness of 
face which sometimes imposed even on Bigot, her request 
for a Lettre de Cachet., or urged the banishment of her rival, 
until the Intendant one day, with a look which for a 
moment annihilated her, told her that her rival had gone 
from Beaumanoir and would never trouble her anymore ! 

What did he mean ? Angelique had noted every change 
of muscle, every curve of lip and eyelash as he spake, 
and she felt more puzzled than before. 

She replied however with the.assurance she could so well 
assume, “ Thanks, Bigot 1 I did not speak from jealousy. I 
only asked for justice, and the fulfilment of your promise 
to send her away.” 

“ But I did not send her away I She has gone away I 
know not whither! Gone! do-you mind me, Angelique! 
I would give half my possessions to know who helped 
her to escape — yes ! that is the word, from Beaumanoir. 

Angelique had expected a burst of passion from Bigot, 
she had prepared herself for it by diligent rehearsal of how 
she would demean herself under every possible form of 
charge from bare innuendo to direct impeachment of 
herself. 

Keenly as Bigot watched Angelique, he could detect no 
sign of confusion in her. She trembled in her heart, but 
her lips wore their old practised smile. Her eyes opened 
widely, looking surprise, not guilt, as she shook him by 
the sleeve or coquettishly pulled his hair, asking if he 
thought that “ she had stolen away his lady love ! ” 

Bigot though only half deceived, tried to persuade 
himself of her innocence, and left her after an hour’s 
dalliance with the half belief that she did not really merit 
the grave suspicions he had entertained of her. 

Angelique feared however that he was only acting 
a part. What part ? It w^as still a mystery to her and 
likely to be ; she had but one criterion to discover his 
real thoughts. The offer of his hand in marriage was 
the only test she relied upon to prove her acquittal in 


570 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


the mind of Bigot, of all complicity with the death of 
Caroline. 

But Bigot was far from making the desired offer of his 
hand. That terrible night in the secret chamber of Beau* 
manoir was not absent from his .mind an hour. It could 
never be forgotten, least of all in the company of Angelique, 
whom he was judging incessantly ; either convicting 
or acquitting her in his mind, as he was alternately 
impressed by her well acted innocent gayety, or stung 
by a sudden perception of her power of deceit and un- 
rivalled assurance. 

So they went on from day to day, fencing like two 
adepts in the art of dissimulation. Bigot never glancing at 
the murder, and speaking of Caroline as gone away to 
parts unknown, but as Angelique observed with bitterness, 
never making that a reason for pressing his suit, while she, 
assuming the role of innocence and ignorance of all that 
had happened at Beaumanoir, put on an appearance of 
satisfaction, or pretending still to fits of jealousy, grew 
fonder in her demeanour and acted as though she assumed, 
as a matter of course, that Bigot would now fulfil her hopes 
of speedily making her his bride. 

The Intendant had come and gone every day, un- 
changed in his manner, full of spirits and gallantry, and as 
warm in his admiration as before ; but her womanly 
instinct told her there was something hidden under that 
gay exterior. 

It was in vain that she exerted her utmost powers of 
pleasing, dressed herself to his voluptuous tastes, put on an 
appearance of gaiety she was far from feeling, sat with him, 
walked with him, rode with him, and in every way drew 
him off and on like her glove. 

Bigot accepted every challenge of flirtation, and ought 
to have declared himself twenty times over, but he did not. 
He seemed to bring himself to the brink of an avowal only 
to break into her confidence, and surprise the secret she 
kept so desperately concealed. 

Angelique met craft by craft, duplicity by duplicity, but 
it began to be clear to herself, that she had met with her 
match, and although the Intendant grew more pressing as a 
lover, she had daily less hope of winning him as a husband. 

The thought was maddening. Such a result admitted of 
a twofold meaning, either he suspected her of the death of 


THE BOURGEOIS PHILIBERT 


571 


Caroline, or her charms which had never failed before 
with any man, failed now to entangle the one man she had 
resolved to marry. 

She cursed him in her heart, while she flattered him 
with her tongue, but by no art she was mistress of, neither 
by fondness nor by coyness, could she extract the declara- 
tion she regarded as her due, and was indignant at 
not receiving. She had fairly earned it by her great crime ! 
She had still more fully earned it, she thought, by her 
condescensions. She regarded Providence as unjust in 
withholding her reward, and for punishing as a sin that 
which for her sake ought to be considered a virtue. 

She often reflected with regretful looking back upon 
the joy which Le Gardeur de Repentigny would have 
manifested over the least of the favors which she had 
lavished in vain upon the inscrutable Intendant. At 
such moments she cursed her evil star, which had led 
her astray to listen to the promptings of ambition, and to 
ask fatal counsel of La Corriveau. 

Le Gardeur was now in the swift downward road 
of destruction. This was the one thing that caused 
Angelique a human pang. She might yet fail in all her 
ambitious prospects, and have to fall back upon her 
first love — when even that would be too late to save 
Le Gardeur or to save her ! 

De Pean rode fast up the Rue St. Louis, not unobserv- 
ant of the dark looks of the Honnetes Gens or the familiar 
nods and knowing smiles of the partizans of the Friponne 
whom he met on the way. 

Before the door of the mansion of the Chevalier 
Des Meloises he saw a valet of the Intendant holding his 
master’s horse, and at the broad window, half hid behind 
the thick curtains, sat Bigot and Angelique engaged in 
badinage and mutual deceiving, as De Pean well knew. 

Her silvery laugh struck his ear as he drew up. He 
cursed them both, but fear of the Intendant, and a due 
regard to his ov/n interests, two feelings never absent from 
the Chevalier De Pean, caused him to ride on, not stopping 
as he had intended. 

He would ride to the end of the grand Allee and return. 
By that time the Intendant would be gone, and she would 
be at liberty to receive his invitation for a ride to-morrow, 
when they would visit the Cathedral and the market. 


572 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


De Pean knew enough of the ways of Angelique to see 
that she aimed at the hand of the Intendant. She had 
slighted and vilipended himself even, while accepting his 
gifts and gallantries. But with a true appreciation of her 
character, he had faith in the ultimate power of money, 
which represented to her, as to most women, position, 
dress, jewels, stately houses, carriages, and above all, the 
envy and jealousy of her own sex. 

These things De Pean had wagered on the head of 
Angelique against the wild love of Le Gardeur, the empty 
admiration of Bigot, and the flatteries of the troop of 
idle gentlemen who dawdled around her. 

He felt confident that in the end victory would be his, 
and the fair Angelique would one day lay her hand in his 
as the wife of Hugues de Pean ! 

De Pean knew that in her heart she had no love for the 
Intendant, and the Intendant no respect for her. Moreover, 
Bigot would not venture to marry the Queen of Sheba 
without the sanction of his jealous patroness at Court. 
He might possess a hundred mistresses if he liked, and be 
congratulated on his bonnes fortunes^ but not one wife, 
under the penalty of losing the favor of La Pompadour, 
who had chosen a future wife for him out of the crowd of 
intriguantes who fluttered round her, basking like butter- 
flies in the sunshine of her semi-regal splendor. 

Bigot had passed a wild night at the palace among the 
partners of the Grand Company, who had met to curse the 
peace and drink a speedy renewal of the war! Before sit- 
ting down to their debauch, however, they had discussed 
with more regard to their peculiar interests than to the 
principles of the Decalogue, the condition and prospects of 
the Company. 

The prospect was so little encouraging to the associates 
that they were glad when the Intendant bade them cheer 
up, and remember that all was not lost that was in danger. 
“ Philibert would yet undergo the fate’ of Acteon and be 
torn in pieces by his own dog,’’ Bigot as he said this, 
glanced from Le Gardeur to De Pean, with a look and 
a smile which caused Cadet, who knew its meaning, to 
shrug his shoulders and inquire of De Pean privately, 
“ Is the trap set?” 

“ It is set 1 ” replied De Pean in a whisper. ‘‘ It will 
spring to-morrow and catch our game, I hope.” 


A DRA JViV GAME. 


573 


You must have a crowd and a row, mind ! this thing, 
to be safe, must be done openly,’’ whispered Cadet in 
reply. 

“ We will have both a crowd and a row, never fear ! 
The new preacher of the Jesuits, who is fresh from Italy, 
and knows nothing about our plot, is to inveigh in the 
market against the Jansenists and the Honnetes Gens, 
If that does not make both a crowd and a row, I do 
not know what will.” 

‘‘ You are a deep devil, De Pean ! So deep that 
I doubt you will cheat yourself yet,” answered Cadet 
gruffly. 

‘‘ Never, fear. Cadet ! To-morrow night shall see the 
palace gay with illumination, and the Golden Dog in 
darkness and despair.” 


CHAPTER LI, 


A DRAWN GAME 


E GARDEUR was too drunk to catch the full drift 



-Lrf of the Intendant’s reference to the Bourgeois under 
the metaphor of Actaeon torn in pieces by his own dog. 
He only comprehended enough to know that some- 
thing was intended to the disparagement of the Philiberts, 
and firing up at the idea, swore loudly that ‘‘ neither 
the Irttendant nor all the Grand Company in mass should 
harm a hair of the Bourgeois’ head ! ” 

“ It is the dog ! ” exclaimed De Pean, “ which the 
company will hang — not his master — nor your friend 
his son, nor your friend’s friend the old Huguenot witch .f' 
We will let them hang themselves when their time comes ; 
but it is the Golden Dog we mean to hang at present, Le 
Gardeur ! ” 

‘‘ Yes ! I see ! ” replied Le Gardeur, looking very hazy, 
“ Hang the golden dog as much as you will, but as to the 
man that touches his master, I say he will have to fight me., 
that is all.” Le Gardeur after one or two vain attempts, 
succeeded in drawing his sword and laid it upon the table. 


574 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ Do you see that, De Pean ? That is the sword of 
a gentleman, and I will run it through the heart of any 
man who says he will hurt a hair of the head of Pierre 
Philibert, or the Bourgeois, or even the old Huguenot witch 
as you call Dame Rochelle who is a lady, and too good to 
be either your mother, aunt, or cater cousin, in any way, 
De Pean ! ’’ 

By St. Picot ! You have mistaken your man, De 
Pean ! ’’ whispered Cadet. “ Why the deuce did you pitch 
upon Le Gardeur to carry out your bright idea t ” 

‘‘ I pitched upon him because he is the best man for our 
turn. B'lt I am right ! You will see I am right ! Le Gardeur 
is the pink of morality when he is sober. He would 
kill the devil when he is half drunk, but when wholly drunk 
he would storm paradise, and sack and slay like a German 
Ritter. He would kill his own grandfather ! I have 
not erred in choosing him ! ’’ 

Bigot watched this by play with intense interest. He 
saw that Le Gardeur was a two-edged weapon just 
as likely to cut his friends as his enemies, unless skil- 
fully held in hand, and blinded as to when and whom 
he should strike. 

‘‘ Come, Le Gardeur ! put up your sword ! ’’ exclaimed 
Bigot, coaxingly, ‘‘ we have better game to bring down 
to-night than the Golden Dog. Hark ! they are coming ! 
Open wide the doors and let the blessed peacemakers 
enter ! ’’ 

“ The peacemakers ! ’’ ejaculated Cadet, the cause of 
every quarrel among men since the creation of the world ! 
What made you send for the women. Bigot ? ” 

“ O ! not to say their prayers you may be sure, old 
Misogynist, but this being a gala night at the Palace, the 
girls and fiddlers were ordered up by De Pean, and we will 
see you dance fandangoes with them until morning. 
Cadet. 

‘‘No you wont ! Damn the women ! I wish you had 
kept them away, that is all. It spoils my fun. Bigot ! ” 

“ But it helps the company’s ! here they come 1 ” 

Their appearance at the door caused a hubbub of 
excitement among the gentlemen who hurried forward to 
salute a dozen or more of women dressed in the extreme 
of fashion, who came forward with plentiful lack of 
modesty, and a superabundance of gaiety and laughter. 


A DR A WN GAME, 


575 

Le Gardeur and Cadet did not rise like the rest, but 
kept their seats. Cadet swore that De Pean had spoiled 
a jolly evening by inviting the women to the palace. 

Tliese women had been invited by De Pean to give zest 
to the wild orgie that was intended to prepare Le Gardeur 
for their plot of to-morrow, which was to compass the fall of 
the Bourgeois. They sat down with the gentlemen, listen- 
ing with peals of laughter to their coarse jests, and tempt- 
ing them to wilder follies. They drank, they sang, they 
danced and conducted, or misconducted themselves in 
such thorough shameless fashion that Bigot, Varin, and 
oth^r experts of the court swore that the petiis apparte7nens 
of Versailles, or even the royal fetes of the Parc aiix cerfs^ 
could not surpass the high life and jollity of the Palace of 
the Intendant. 

In that wild fashion Bigot had passed the night previous 
to his present visit to Angelique. The Chevalier De Pean 
rode the length of the Grand Allee and returned. The 
valet and horse of the Intendant were still waiting at the 
door, and De Pean saw Bigot and Angelique still seated 
at the window engaged in a lively conversation, and 
not apparently noticing his presence in the street as he sat 
pulling hairs out of the mane of his horse, “ with the air of 
a man in love,” as Angelique laughingly remarked to Bigot. 

Her quick eye, which nothing could escape, had seen De 
Pean the first time he passed the house. She knew that 
he had come to visit her, and seeing the horse of the 
Intendant at the door he had forborne to enter — that 
would not have been the way with Le Gardeur — she 
thought. He would have entered all the readier had even 
the Dauphin held her in conversation. 

Angelique was woman enough to like best the bold 
gallant who carries the female heart by storm, and puts the 
parleying garrison of denial to the sword, as the Sabine 
women admired the spirit of their Roman captors and 
became the most faithful of wives. 

De Pean, clever and unprincipled, was a menial in 
his soul, as cringing to his superiors as he was arrogant to 
those below him. 

‘‘ Fellow ! ” said he to Bigot’s groom, “ How long has 
the Intendant been here ? ” 

“ All the afternoon, Chevalier,” replied the man 
respectfully uncovering his head. 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


576 

‘‘ Hum ! and have they sat at the window all the time ? ” 

“ I have no eyes to watch my master ! ’’ replied the 
groom, I do not know.” 

“Oh!” was the reply of De Pean as he suddenly 
reflected that it were best for himself also not to be seen 
watching his master too closely. He uttered a spurt 
of ill -humor, and continued pulling the mane of his horse 
through hi-s fingers. 

“The Chevalier De Pean is practising patience to- 
day, Bigot,” said she, “ and you give him enough time to 
exercise it.” 

“ You wish me gone, Angelique ! ” said he, rising, “ the 
Chevalier De Pean is naturally waxing impatient, and you 
too .? ” 

“ Pshaw I ” exclaimed she, “ he shall wait as long as I 
please to keep him there.” 

“ Or as long as I stay 1 He is an accommodating lover, 
and will make an equally accommodating husband for 
his wife’s friend, some day ! ” remarked Bigot, laughingly. 

Angelique’s eye flashed out fire, but she little knew how 
true a word Bigot had spoken in jest. She could have 
choked him for mentioning her in connection with De 
Pean, but remembering she was now at his mercy, it was 
necessary to cheat and cozen this man by trying to please 
him. 

“ Well, if you must go, you must, Chevalier ! Let me 
tie that string 1 ” continued she, approaching him in her 
easy manner. The knot of his cravat was loose. Bigot 
glanced admiringly at her slightly flushed cheek and 
dainty fingers as she tied the loose ends of his rich stein- 
kirk together. 

“ ’Tis like love 1 ” said she, laughingly, “ a slip-knot 
that looks tied until it is tried.” 

She glanced at Bigot expecting him to thank her, which 
he did with a simple word. The thought of Caroline 
flashed over his mind like lightning at that moment. She 
too as they walked on the shore of the Bay of Minas had 
once tied the string of his cravat, when for the first time 
he read in her flushed cheek and trembling Angers 
that she loved him. Bigot, hardy as he was and reckless, 
refrained from touching the hand or even looking at 
Angelique at this moment. 

With the quick perception of her sex she felt it, and 


A DR A JVN GAME. 


577 


drew back a step, not knowing but the next moment 
might overwhelm her with an accusation ! But Bigot was 
not sure, and he dared not hint to Angelique more than he 
had done. 

‘‘ Thanks for tying the knot, Angelique,’’ said he at 
length, It is a hard knot mine, is it not, both to tie and to 
untie ? ” 

She looked at him, not pretending to understand 
any meaning he might attach to his words. “Yes, it is 
a hard knot to tie, yours. Bigot, and you do not seem 
particularly to thank me for my service. Have you dis- 
covered the hidden place of your fair fugitive yet ? ” She 
said this just as he turned to depart. It was the feminine 
postscript to their interview. 

Bigot’s avoidance of any allusion to the death of Caro- 
line was a terrible mark of suspicion, less in reality, 
however, than it seemed. 

Bigot, although suspicious, could find no clue to the 
real perpetrators of the murder. He knew it had not been 
Angelique herself in person. He had never heard her speak 
of La Corriveau. Not the smallest ray of light penetrated 
the dark mystery. 

“ I do not believe she has left Beaumanoir, Bigot ! ” 
continued Angelique, “ or if she has, you know her hiding 
place. Will you swear on my book of hours that you 
know not where she is to be found ? ” 

He looked fixedly at Angelique for a moment, trying 
to read her thoughts, but she had rehearsed her part too 
often and too well to look pale or confused. She felt her 
eyebrow twitch, but she pressed it with her fingers, be- 
lieving Bigot did not observe it, but he did. 

“ I will swear and curse both, if you wish it, Angeli- 
que,” replied he. “ Which shall it be ? ” 

“ Well, do both — swear at me and curse the day that 
I banished Le Gardeur de Repentigny for your sake, 
Francois Bigot ! If the lady be gone, where is your pro- 
mise } ” 

Bigot burst into a wild laugh, as was his wont when 
hard pressed. He had not, to be sure, made any definite 
promise to Angelique, but he had flattered her with hopes 
of marriage never intended to be realized. 

“ I keep my promises to ladies as if I had sworn by 
St. Dorothy,” replied he. 


37 


THE CHIEH D' OR. 


578 

“ But your promise to me, Bigot ! Will you keep it, or 
do worse ? ’’ asked she impatiently. 

“ Keep it or do worse ! What mean you, Angelique ? ’’ 
He looked up in genuine surprise. This was not the 
usual tone of women towards him. 

“ I mean that nothing will be better for Francois Bigot 
than to keep his promise, nor worse than to break it, to 
Angelique des Meloises ! ’’ replied she with a stamp of her 
foot, as was her manner when excited. 

She thought it safe to use an implied threat, which at 
any rate might reach the thought that lay under his heart 
like a centipede under a stone, which some chance foot 
turns over. 

But Bigot minded not the implied threat. He was im- 
moveable in the direction she wished him to move. He 
understood her allusion, but would not appear to under- 
stand it, lest worse than she meant should come of it. 

“ Forgive me, Angelique ! ’’ said he with a sudden 
change from frigidity to fondness. “ I am not unmindful 
of my promises ; there is nothing better to myself than to 
keep them, nothing worse than to break them. Beau- 
manoir is now without reproach, and you can visit it with- 
out fear of aught but the ghosts in the gallery.’’ 

Angelique feared no ghosts, but she did fear that the 
Intendant’s words implied a suggestion of one which 
might haunt it for the future, if there were any truth in tales. 

‘‘ How can you warrant that. Bigot ? ” asked she, dubi- 
ously. 

“ Because Pierre Philibert and La Come St. Luc have 
been with the king’s warrant and searched the chateau 
from crypt to attic, without finding a trace of your rival.” 

“ What, Chevalier, searched the Chateau of the Inten- 
dant ? ” 

‘‘ Par bleu ! yes, I insisted upon their doing so, not, 
however, • till they had gone through the Castle of St. 
Louis. They apologized to me for finding nothing. What 
did they expect to find, think you ? ” 

“ The lady, to be sure ! O, Bigot ! ” continued she, 
tapping him with her fan, “ if they would send a commis- 
sion of women to search for her, the secret could not 
remain hid.” 

“ No, truly, Angelique ! If you were on such a com- 
mission to search for the secret of her.” 


A DR A WN GAME. 


579 


Well, Bigot, I would never betray it, if I knew it,” 
answered she, promptly. 

“You swear to that, Angelique ” asked he, looking 
full in her eyes, which did not flinch under his gaze. 

“ Yes ; on my book of hours, as you did ! ” said she. 

“ Well, there is my hand upon it, Angelique. I have 
no secret to tell respecting her. She has gone, I cannot 
tell whitherP 

Angelique gave him her hand on the lie. She knew 
he was playing with her, as she with him, a game of 
mutual deception, which both knew to be such. And yet 
they must, circumstanced as they were, play it out to the 
end, which end, she hoped, would be her marriage with 
this arch-deceiver. A breach of their alliance was as danger- 
ous as it would be unprofitable to both. 

Bigot rose to depart with an air of gay regret at leav- 
ing the company of Angelique, to make room for De Bean, 
“ who,” he said, “ would pull every hair out of his horse’s 
mane if he waited much longer.” 

“ Your visit is no pleasure to you. Bigot,” said she, 
looking hard at him. “You are discontented with me, 
and would rather go than stay ! ” 

“ Well, Angelique, I am a dissatisfied man to-day. 
The mysterious disappearance of that girl from Beau- 
manoir is the cause of my discontent. The defiant boldness 
of the Bourgeois Philibert is another. I have heard to- 
day that the Bourgeois has chartered every ship that is to 
sail to France during the remainder of the autumn. These 
things are provoking enough, but they drive me for conso- 
lation to you. But for you I should shut myself up in 
Beaumanoir, and let everything go helter-skelter to the 
devil.” 

“ You only flatter me and do not mean it ! ” said she, 
as he took her hand with an ov^x-eitipressement as perceptible 
to her, as was his occasional coldness. 

“ By all the saints ! I anean it,” said he. But he did 
not deceive her. His professions were not all true, but 
how far they were true was a question that again and 
again tormented her, and set her bosom palpitating as he 
left her room with his usual courteous salute. 

“ He suspects me ! He more than suspects me ! ” 
said she to herself as Bigot passed out of the mansion, 
and mounted his horse to ride off. “ He would speak out 


THE CHIEND'OR, 


580 

plainer if he dared avow that that woman was in truth the 
missing Caroline de St. Castin ! ’’ thought she with savage 
bitterness. 

I have a bit in your mouth there, Francois Bigot, 
that will forever hold you in check. That missing demoi- 
selle, no one knows as you do where she is. I would give 
away every jewel I own to know what you did with the pret- 
ty piece of mortality left on your hands by La Corriveau.” 
“ Foul witch ! ” continued she. ‘‘ It was she made a 
murder of a natural death, and led me into this cursed 
coil ! But for that poniard stroke the Intendant would 
have been mine to-day. I could wear sackcloth for spite, 
when I reflect on it. I feel to the very ends of my finger- 
nails that Satan has put this crook in my lot to thwart my 
legitimate hopes.’’ 

Thus soliloquized Angelique for a few moments, look- 
ing gloomy and beautiful as Medea, when the step of De 
Bean sounded up the broad stair. 

With a sudden transformation, as if touched by a magic 
wand, Angelique sprang forward all smiles and fascinations 
to greet his entrance. 

The faculty of a woman to read a man is said to be a 
sixth sense of the sex. If so, the faculty of appearing 
other than she is, and of preventing a man from reading 
her, is assuredly a seventh sense. Angelique possessed 
both to perfection. 

All women have that faculty, but never one surpassed 
Angelique in the art of transformation. None knew bet- 
ter than she how to suit her rare powers of fascination to 
the particular man she desired to please, or the mood she 
desired to take advantage of. 

The Chevalier De Bean had long made distant and 
timid pretensions to her favor, but he had been over-borne 
by a dozen rivals. He was incapable of love in any 
honest sense ; but he had immense vanity. He had been 
barely noticed among the crowd of Angelique’s admirers. 
‘‘ He was only food for powder,” she had laughingly re- 
marked, upon one occasion when a duel on her account 
seemed to be impending between De Bean and the young 
Captain de Tours ; and beyond doubt, Angelique would 
have been far prouder of him shot for her sake in a duel 
than she was of his living attentions. 

She regarded him as a lady regards her pet spaniel 


“ IN GOLD CLASPSr ETC. 


S8l 


He was most useful to fetch and carry — to stand on his 
hind feet and turn the whirligig of her fancy ^hen she had 
no better company. 

She was not sorry, however, that he came in to-day 
after the departure of the Intendant. It kept her from 
her own thoughts, which were bitter enough when alone. 
Moreover, she never tired of any amount of homage and 
admiration, come from what quarter it would. 

De Pean stayed long with Angelique. How far he 
opened the details of the plot to create a riot in the 
market place that afternoon, can only be conjectured, by' 
the fact of her agreeing to ride out at the hour designated, 
which she warmly consented to do, as soon as De Pean 
informed her that Le Gardeur would be there, and might 
be expected to have a hand in the tumult raised against 
the Golden Dbg. The conference over, Angelique speedily 
dismissed De Pean. She was in no mood for flirtation 
with him. Her mind was taken up with the possibility of 
danger to Le Gardeur in this plot, which she saw clearly 
was the work of others, and not of himself, although he 
was expected to be a chief actor in it. ^ 


CHAPTER LII. 


“ IN GOLD CLASPS LOCKS IN THE GOLDEN STORY.’’ 

IFE is divided into triads of epochs, — youth, manhood; 



age ; birth, marriage and death:. Each epoch has its 
own progress from morning to noon, and from noon to 
night, as if our moral and physical states retained in their 
changes an image and reflection of the great never-ending 
ever-beginning revolution of the sun. 

The father rejoices in his children. They will live upon 
the earth after him, and in their eyes he will still see the 
pleasant light of day. Man tarns towards the woman 
whom he has selected from among the many possible 
women whom he might have loved, and she calls herself 
for a while, perhaps for ever, blessed among women. 

Love is like a bright river ; when it springs from the fresh 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


582 

fountains of the heart. It flows on between fair and ever- 
widening banks until it reaches the ocean of eternity and 
happiness. 

The days, illuminated with the brightest sunshine are 
those which smile over the heads of a loving pair who 
have found each other, and with tender confessions and 
mutual avowals plighted their troth and prepared their little 
bark for sailing together down the changeful stream of time. 

So it had been through the long Indian summer days 
with Pierre Philibert and Amelie de Repentigny. Since 
the blessed hour they plighted their troth in the evening 
twilight upon the shore of the little lake of Tilly, they had 
showed to each other in the heart’s confessional, the 
treasures of true human affection, holy in the eyes of God 
and man. 

One mind, one hope, and one desire possessed them — 
to be all in all to one another ; to study each other’s 
inmost character, an easy task when instead of conceal- 
ment, each loved to guide the other to a perfect under- 
standing. 

When Amelie gave her love to Pierre, she gave it 
utterly and without a scruple of reservation. It was so 
easy to love Pierre, so impossible not to love him ; nay, 
she remembered not the time it was otherwise, or when he 
had not been first and last in her secret thoughts as he 
was now in her chaste confessions, although whispered so 
low that her approving angel hardly caught the sound as it 
passed into the ear of Pierre Philibert. 

Amelie’s devotion was like that of holy Sarah of 
old. The image of Pierre mingled in her prayers, inspir- 
ing them with a fervor deeper than she dreamt of. She 
thanked God for the love of the one man out of all the 
world who had won her virgin heart, one whom she could 
look up to with pride for his manhood, with reverence for 
his greatness of soul ; and in return for his love counted 
the devotion of her whole life as inadequate to repay it. 

A warm soft wind blew gently down the little valley of 
the Lairet which wound and rippled over its brown glossy 
pebbles, murmuring a quiet song down in its hollow bed. 
Tufts of spiry grass clung to its steep banks, and a few 
wild flowers peeped out of nooks among the sere fallen 
leaves that lay upon the still green sward on each shore of 
the little rivulet. 


IN GOLD clasps;’ ETC. 583 

Pierre and Amelie had been tempted by the beauty of 
the Indian summer to dismount and send their horses for- 
ward to the city in charge of a servant while they walked 
home by way of the fields to gather the last flowers of 
Autumn which Amelie said lingered longest in the deep 
swales of the Lairet. 

A walk in the golden sunshine with Amelie alone amid 
the quiet fields, free to speak his love, and she to hear him 
and be glad, was a pleasure Pierre had dreamt of but never 
enjoyed, since the blessed night when they plighted their 
troth to each other by the lake of Tilly. 

The betrothal of Pierre and Amelie had been accepted 
by their friends on both sides as a most fitting and desir- 
able match, but the manners of the age with respect to the 
unmarried, did not admit of that freedom in society which 
prevails at the present day. 

They had seldom met save in the presence of others, 
and except for a few chance but blissful moments, Pierre 
had not been favored with the company all to himself of 
his betrothed. 

Amelie was not unmindful of that, when she gave a 
willing consent to-day to walk with him along the banks 
of the Lairet, under the shady elms, birches and old thorns 
that over hung the path by the little stream. 

She felt with the tender compassion of a woman for 
the man she loves, that he had longed for more of her 
society than the custom of the lime permitted him to enjoy, 
and although rigid and precise in her ideas of duty, Amelie 
could not persuade herself against her own heart, not to 
grant him this propitious hour, to converse with ease and 
freedom. 

The happy present was intoxicating as sweet wine, and 
the still more happy future loomed up before her imag- 
ination like a fairy land where she was to dwell for ever. 
To talk of it to-day was a foretaste of bliss for them both 
not to be denied ; so leaning on the arm of Pierre, she 
sauntered along the banks of the Lairet conversing with 
innocent animation, and that entire trust which their 
relationship to each other permitted. 

Pierre was now her betrothed, Amelie, happy and con- 
fiding, regarded her lover as her other self. She loved 
him too well to affect any unreal thought or feeling, and 
when his eager admiring eyes met hers, she blushed, but 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


5^4 

would not refuse to let him perceive that he was loved 
with the tenderness and devotion of her whole being. She 
felt that Pierre loved her as his own soul, and in the ful- 
ness of her gratitude, resolved that as her past life had 
been one prayer for his happiness, so her future should be 
one never ceasing effort to repay his love. 

‘‘Pierre,” said she smiling, “our horses are gone and I 
must now walk home with you right or wrong. My old 
mistress in the Convent would shake her head if she heard 
of it; but I care not who blames me to-day, if you do not, 
Pierre ! ” 

“Who can blame you, darling what you do is ever 
wisest and best in my eyes, except one thing, which I 
will confess now that you are my own, I cannot account 
for—” 

“ I had hoped Pierre, there was no exception to your 
admiration, you are taking off my angel’s wings already, 
and leaving me a mere woman ! ” replied she merrily. 

“ It is a woman I want you to be, darling, a woman 
not faultless, but human as myself, a wife to hold to me 
and love me despite my faults, not an angel too bright and 
too perfect to be my other self.” 

“ Dear Pierre,” said she pressing his arm, “ I will be 
that woman to you, full enough of faults to satisfy you. An 
angel I am not and cannot be, nor wish to be until we go 
together to the spirit land. I am so glad I have a fault for 
which you can blame me, if it makes you love me better. 
Indeed I own to many, but what is that one fault, Pierre, 
which you cannot account for ” 

“That you should have taken a rough soldier like me, 
Amelie ! that one so fair and perfect in all the graces of 
womanhood with the world to choose from, should have 
permitted Pierre Philibert to win her loving heart of 
hearts.” 

Amelie looked at him with a fond expression of re- 
proach. “Does that' surprise you, Pierre? you rough sol- 
dier, you little know, and I will not tell you, the way to a 
woman’s heart ; but for one blindfolded by so much diff- 
idence to his own merits, you have found the way very 
easily ! Was it for loving you that you blamed me ? what 
if I should recall the fault ? ” added she, laughing. 

Pierre raised her hand to his lips, kissing devotedly the 
ring he had placed upon her finger. “ I have no fear of 


“/iV GOLD CLASPS, ETC. 585 

that, Amelie ! the wonder to me is that you could think me 
worthy of the priceless trust of your happiness/^ 

“ And the wonder to me,” replied she, “ is that your 
dear heart ever burdened itself with my happiness. I am 
weak in myself, and only strong in my resolution to be all 
a loving wife should be to you, my Pierre I You wonder 
how you gained my love ? shall I tell you ? you never gain- 
ed it, it was always yours before you formed a thought to 
win it ! You are now my betrothed, Pierre Philibert, soon 
to be my husband ; I would not exchange my fortune to 
become the proudest queen that ever sat on the throne of 
France.” 

Amelie was very happy to-day. The half stolen delight 
of walking by the side of Pierre Philibert, was enhanced 
by the hope that the fatal spell that bound Le Gardeur to 
the palace, had been broken, and he would yet return home, 
a new man. 

Le Gardeur had only yesterday, in a moment of recol- 
lection of himself, and of his sister, addressed a note to 
Amelie, asking pardon for his recent neglect of home, and 
promising to come and see them on St. Martin’s day. 

He had heard of her betrothal to Pierre. “ It was the 
gladdest news,” he said, “ that had ever come to him in his 
life. He sent a brother’s blessing upon them both, and 
claimed the privilege of giving away her hand to the 
noblest man in New France, Pierre Philibert.” 

Amelie showed the precious note to Pierre. It only 
needed that to complete their happiness for the day. The 
one cloud that had overshadowed their joy in their ap- 
proaching nuptials was passing away, and Amelie was 
prouder in the anticipation that Le Gardeur, restored to 
himself, sober, and in his right mind, was to be present at 
her wedding and give her away, than if the whole court of 
France with thousands of admiring spectators were to pay 
her royal honors. 

It was very pleasant under the brown trees and bushes 
that fringed the little brook. The gentle wind rustled the 
fallen leaves that strewed the earth. Scarcely a sound else 
mingled with the low sweet tones of love and confidence 
which fell from the lips of Pierre and Amelie as they 
loitered in the secluded pathway. 

The Summer birds had nearly all gone. The few that 
remained in the bushes no longer sang as in the genial 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


58S 

days of June, but chirped sad notes hopping solitarily here 
and there, as if they knew that the season of joy was 
passing away, and the dark days of winter were at hand. 

But nothing of this noted Pierre and Ainelie, wrapped 
in the entrancement of each others presence they only 
observed nature so far as it was the reflex of their owi; 
happy feelings. Amelie unconsciously leaned, as she had 
often dreamed of doing, upon the arm of Pierre, who held 
her hand in his, gazing on her half averted face, catching 
momentary glances of her dark eyes which she cast down 
abashed under the fondness which she felt was filling them 
with tears of joy. 

They sauntered on towards a turn of the ^stream where 
a little pool lay embayed like a smooth mirror reflecting 
the grassy bank. Amelie sat down under a tree while 
Pierre crossed over the brook to gather on the opposite 
side, some flowers which had caught her eye. 

Tell me which, Amelie ! exclaimed he, “ for they 
are all yours ! you are Flora’s heiress with right to enter 
into possession of her whole kingdom ! ” 

The water lilies, Pierre, those, and those, and those, 
they are to deck the shrine of Notre Dame des Victoires, 
Aunt has a vow there and to-morrow it must be paid, I too ! ” 
He looked up at her with eyes of admiration, “avow! 
let me share in its payment, Amelie,” said he. 

You may ! but, you shall not ask me what it is. There 
now ! do not wet yourself farther! you have gathered 
more lilies than we can carry home.” 

“But I have my own thank-offering to make to Notre 
Dame des Victoires, for I think I love God even better for 
your sake, Amdie.” 

“ Fie Pierre, say not that ! and yet I know what you 
mean ! I ought to reprove you, but for your penance you 
shall gather more lilies ; for I fear you need many prayers 
and offerings to expiate,” — she hesitated to finish the 
sentence. — 

“ My idolatry, Amelie,” said he, completing her mean- 
ing. 

“ I doubt it is little better, Pierre, if you love me as 
you say. But you shall join in my offering and that will do 
for both. Please pull that one bunch of lilies and no more, 
or our Lady of Victory’ will judge you harder than I do ! ” 

Pierre stepped from stone to stone over the gentle brook 


IN GOLD clasps;^ ETC. 


587 

gatheringthe golden lilies, while Amelie clasped her hands 
and silently thanked God for this happy hour of her life. 

She hardly dared trust herself to look at Pierre except 
by furtive glances of pride and affection ; but as his form 
and features were reflected in a shadow of manly beauty 
in the still pool, she withdrew not her loving gaze from his 
shadow, and leaning forward towards his image, 

‘‘A thousand times she kissed him in the brook, 

Across the flowers with bashful eyelids down I ” 

Amelie had royally given her love to Pierre Philibert. 
She had given it without stint or measure and with a depth 
and strength of devotion of which more facile natures 
know nothing. 

Amelie was incapable of trifling with the semblance of 
love. She was a stranger to the frivolous coquetry which 
formed a study and was a science with most of her sex. 
She had loved Pierre Philibert from the first awakening of 
her affections. She loved him now with a passion which 
in her heart she thought it no shame to feel for her 
betrothed. She had confessed much to Pierre of her love, 
but shrank with, virgin modesty from trying to make him 
comprehend all the strength and greatness of it ; yet the 
mere overflowing of her heart had seemed to him like the 
rich flood of the glorious Nile that covers all the land, 
enriching it with the harvests of Egypt. But even he had 
no full conception of the magnitude and purity of that 
affection which lay like a great silence down in the still 
depths of her soul. 

It was a world of woman’s love which God alone, its 
creator, could measure. Pierre got a glimpse of it through 
that wondrous look of her dark eyes which was like the 
opening of heaven, and a sudden revelation of the spiritual 
kingdom. He was lost in admiration not unmingled with 
awe as of a vision of something most holy, and so it was ; 
so is every true woman’s love. It is a holy and sacred 
thing in the sight of God and should be in the sight of man. 

Pierre with his burthen of golden lilies came back over 
the brook and seated himself beside her, his arm encircled 
her and she held his hand firmly clasped in both of hers. 

“ Ameliev” said he, I believe now in the power of fate 
to remove mountains of difficulty and cast them into the 
sea. How often while watching the stars wheel silently 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


588 

over my head as I lay pillowed on a stone, while my com- 
rades slumbered round the camp fires, have I repeated my 
prayer for Amelie De Repentigny ! I had no right to indulge 
a hope of winning your love, I was but a rough soldier, 
very practical and not at all imaginative. ‘‘ She would see 
nothing in me,’’ I said ; “ and still I would not have given 
up my hope for a kingdom ! ” 

“ It was not so hard after all, to win what was already 
yours, Pierre, was it ? ” said she with a smile and a look of 
unutterable sweetness, ‘‘ but it was well you asked, for 
without asking you would be like one possessing a treasure 
of gold in his field without knowing it, although it was all 
the while there and all his own. But not a grain of it 
would you have found without asking me, Pierre ! ” 

‘‘ But having found it I shall never lose it again, dar- 
ling ! ” replied he, pressing her to his bosom. 

Never, Pierre, it is yours forever ! ” replied she, her 
voice trembling with emotion. ‘‘ Love is, I think, the 
treasure in heaven which rusts not, and which no thief 
can steal.” 

‘‘ Amelie ! ” said he after a few minutes silence, ‘‘ some 
say men’s lives are counted not by hours but by the succes- 
sion of ideas and emotions. If it be so, I have lived a cen- 
tury of happiness with you this afternoon ! I am old in 
love, Amelie ! ” 

‘‘ Nay, I would not have you old in love, Pierre ! love 
is the perennial youth of the soul. Grande Mere St. Pierre 
who has been fifty years an Ursuline and has now the visions 
which are promised to the old in the latter days, tells me 
that in heaven those who love God and one another grow 
.evermore youthful ; the older the more beautiful ! Is not 
that better than the philosophers teach, Pierre ” 

‘‘ Better than all teaching of philosophy are your words, 
Amelie. Grande Mere St. Pierre has discovered a truth 
that the academy of sciences cannot reach. The immor- 
tality of Tithonus was full of decrepitude and decay, a body 
without a soul ; but the immortality that springs from love 
and goodness is a fountain of everlasting youth, because 
the source of it is divine. I can well believe you, Amelie, 
the more years the angels count under the skies of heaven, 
the more beautiful and youthful they grow forever! It is 
a sweet thought! I thank you for it, darling! Had De 
Soto loved as we do, Amelie, he would have found in the 


“ IN GOLD clasps;’ ETC 


589 

heart of love the fountain of life he sought for ! you see 
darling/’ continued he as he pressed her fondly to his side, 
“ I am an apt scholar of the Grande Mere’s philosophy.” 

You must not jest, Pierre, at the expense of our phil- 
osophy,” replied she smiling, “ there is more in it than man 
thinks. I sometimes think only women can understand it ! ” 

“ Nay, I jest not, but believe it with my whole soul ! 
How could I do otherwise with its proof radiating from 
those dear eyes of yours, bright enough to enlighten the 
wisest men with a new revelation ? 

He drew her closer, and Amelie permitted him to im- 
press a kiss on each eyhlid as she closed it ; suddenly she 
started up. 

“ Pierre,” said she, you said you were a soldier and 
so practical. I feel shame to myself for being so imagin- 
ative and so silly. I too would be practical if I knew how. 
This was to be a day of business with us, was it not, 
Pierre ? ” 

‘‘ And is it not a day of business, Amelie ? or are we 
spending it like holiday children wholly on pleasure ? But 
after all, love is the business of life, and life is the business 
of eternity, — we are transacting it to-day, Amelie ! I 
never was so seriously engaged as at this moment, nor 
you either, darling ! tell the truth ! ” 

Amdie pressed her hands in his, “ never, Pierre, and 
yet I cannot see the old brown woods of Belmont rising 
yonder upon the slopes of St. Foye without remembering 
my promise not two hours old to talk with you to-day 
about the dear old mansion.” 

- “ That is to be the nest of as happy a pair of lovers as 

ever went to house-keeping ! and I promised to keep 
soberly by your side as I am doing,” said he, mischiev- 
ously twitching a stray lock of her dark hair,” and talk 
with you on the pretty banks of the Lairet, about the old 
mansion.” 

“Yes, Pierre! that was your promise, if I would walk 
this way with you, — where shall we begin ? ” 

“ Here, Amelie ! replied he, kissing her fondly, “ now 
the congress is opened I I am your slave of the wonderful 
lamp, ready to set up and pull down the world at your 
bidding. The old mansion is your own. It shall have no 
rest until it becomes within and without a mirror of the 
perfect taste and fancy of its lawful mistress.” 


590 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ Not yet, Pierre ! I will not let you divert me from my 
purpose by your flatteries. The dear old home is perfect, 
but I must have the best suite of rooms in it for your noble 
father, and the next best for good Dame Rochelle. I will 
lit them up on a plan of my own and none, shall say me 
nay, — that is all the change I shall make ! ’’ 

“ Is that all } and you tried to frighten the slave of the 
lamp with the weight of your commands ! a suite of rooms 
for my father and one for good Dame Rochelle ! Really, 
and what do you devote to me, Amelie.’’ 

‘‘ O ! all the rest with its mistress included ! for the 
reason that what is good enough^for me is good enough 
for you, Pierre ! ’’ said she gaily. 

“You little economist! why one would say you had 
studied house-keeping under Madame Painchaud.’^ 

‘‘ And so I have I You do not know what a treasure I am, 
Pierre ! said she, laughing merrily. “ I graduated under 
Mes Tantes in the kitchen of the Ursulines, and received an 
accessit as bonne menagere^ which in secret, I prize more 
tlian the crown of honor they gave me. 

“ My fortune is made, and I am a rich man for life ! ’’ 
exclaimed Pierre, clapping his hands, “ why, I shall have 
to marry you like the girls of Acadia with a silver thim- 
ble on your finger, and a pair of scissors at your girdle, 
emblems of industrious habits, and proofs of a good house- 
wife I ’’ 

“ Yes, Pierre ! and I will comb your hair to my own 
liking 1 Your valet is a rough groom ! ’’ said she, taking off 
his hat and passing her finger through his thick, fair locks. 

Pierre, although always dressed and trimmed like a gen- 
tleman, really cared little for the petit maitre fashions of 
the day. Never had he felt a thrill of such exquisite pleas- 
ure as when Amelie’s'hands arranged his rough hair to her 
fancy. 

“ My blessed Amelie I ” said he, with emotion, pressing 
her fingers to his lips, “ never since my mother combed my 
boyish locks has a woman’s hand touched my hair until 
now ! ” 

The sun was gradually going down the last slope of day. 
The western sky glowed like a sea of fire, reflecting its rays 
in the brook that glided so smoothly at their feet. A few 
cattle stood quietly in the water, full and happy, chewing 
their cud and waiting for the voice of the cow boy to call 


»/iV cLAsrs Oh gold;^ etc. 


S9I 

them home to the milking. The shadows were growing 
longer upon the hill sides. The broad meadows were trem- 
ulous with the gentle evening breeze. The earth was bathed, 
in golden light and so still, that no sound was heard save 
the occasional chirp of a bird and the quiet ripple of the 
stream over the pebbles, as it flowed past at their feet. 

The hour, the secluded nook, the calmness everywhere 
inclined the heart to confidence and tenderness, grave but 
not sad. 

Pierre and Amelie talked reverently of their marriage, 
which was to open to them the portals of a new life, when 
hand in hand they would walk together their allotted path- 
way through the world, and at the end of that pathway out 
of the world into the eternal. 

The apostle has in a few words epitomized the meaning 
of love which all think they understand, and but few reach 
the knowledge of. A selfish man and a selfish woman love 
selfishly for their own sakes ; but with true men and true 
women, love, as St. Paul says, ‘‘is without dissimulation, 
in honor preferring one another.” 

Amelie de Repentigny and Pierre Philibert had this in 
common, their love had rooted itself deeply in secret and 
in absence, long before its glorious blooming. It was with- 
out dissimulation, and in honor did they truly prefer one 
another. 

Its days of fruition alas, never came ! But why antici- 
pate ? Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Happily 
the day is not sufficient for the good ! for the good en- 
dures for ever ! Their love never received its consumma- 
tion. on earth ; but for all that it did not fail to receive it in 
heaven ! 

Amdlie felt that touch of sadness which is never absent 
from the highest happiness. It is the thin veil which shad- 
ows the brightness of the vision before the eyes of mortals. 

Leaning her head fondly against the shoulder of Pierre, 
she bade him repeat to her again, to her who had not for- 
gotten one word or syllable of the tale he had told her be- 
fore, of the story of his love. 

She listened with moistened eyelids and heaving bosom 
as he told her again of his faithfulness in the past, his joys 
in the present, and his hopes in the future ! She feared to 
look up lest she should break the charm ; but when he had 
ended she turned to him passionately and kissed his lips 


592 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


and his hands, murmuring, “ Thanks, my Pierre ! I will be 
a true and loving wife to you ! ’’ 

He strained her to his bosom, and held her fast as if 
fearful to let her go 1 


“ Her image at that last embrace 
Ah ! little thought he ’twas the last ! ” 


Something cast its shadow over them, but they heeded 
it not. Heeded nothing but the presence of each other ! 
These blissful moments were never forgotten by them. 
Happen what would, Pierre and Amelie were united in love 
forever ! The sun was going down in clouds of glory. The 
whole west changed into a temple, dazzling with effulgence 
and hung with the drapery of golden palaces. The Tem- 
ple of Solomon with its lofty gates glittering in the morning 
sun was but a feeble reflex of the gates of heaven open at 
this moment, as if to let in the pair who stood glorified in 
that hour of beauty and happiness. 

The vision closed ! Dim twilight crept into the valley. 
It was time to return home.' Pierre and Amelie, full of joy 
in each other, grateful for the happiest day in their lives, 
hopeful of to-morrow and many morrows after it, and mer- 
cifully blinded to what was really before them, rose from 
their seat under the great spreading elm. They slowly re- 
traced the path through the meadow leading to the bridge, 
and reentered the highway which ran to the city, where 
Pierre conducted Amelie home. 


CHAPTER LHI. 


THE MARKET PLACE ON ST. MARTINIS DAY. 

HE smoky fog which hung heavily over the city on the 



JL day of St. Martin lifted suddenly as the bells of the 
Cathedral ceased to chime. The sound of the organ, the 
chanting of litanies within the sacred edifice mingled with 
the voices and din of the great market hard by. 

The sun shone large and ruddy through the hazy atmos- 
phere of the Indian summer. A warm breeze swept over 


THE MARKET PLACE ON ST, MARTIN'S DA \. 593 

the great square, singing the requiem of Autumn among 
the dark boughs, where only a yellow leaf here and there 
dangled and fluttered in the wind. The rest of Summer’s 
foliage lay heaped in nooks and corners of the streets whither 
it had been swept by the autumnal gales. The first frost 
had come and gone like the pinch of love, tinging the 
deciduous trees with a flush of fire and but leaving the dark 
pine woods and evergreens still darker amid the passing 
glory. 

The market place then as now, occupied the open square 
lying between the great Cathedral of Ste. Marie and the 
College of the Jesuits. The latter, a vast edifice, occupied 
one side of the square. Through its wide portal a glimpse 
was had of the gardens and broad avenues of ancient trees, 
sacred to the meditation and quiet exercises of the Rev- 
erend Fathers, who walked about in pairs, according to the 
rule of their order which rarely permitted them to go singly. 

The market place itself was lively this morning with the 
number of carts and stalls ranged on either side of the 
bright little rivulet which ran under the old elms that inter- 
sected the square, the trees affording shade and the rivulet 
drink for man and beast. 

A bustling, loquacious crowd of hahitans and citizens, 
wives 'and maid-servants were buying, selling, exchanging 
compliments, or complaining of hard times. The market 
place was full, and all were glad at the termination of the 
terrible war, and hopeful of the happy effect of peace in 
bringing plenty back again to the old market. 

The people bustled up and down, testing their weak 
purses against their strong desires to fill their baskets with 
the ripe autumnal fruits and the products of field and gar- 
den, river and basse cour which lay temptingly exposed in 
the little carts of the marketmen and women who on every 
side extolled the quality and cheapness of their wares. 

There were apples from the Cote de Beaupre, small in 
size but impregnated with the flavor of honey ; pears, grown 
in the old orchards about Ange Gardien, and grapes worthy 
of Bacchus from the Isle of Orleans, with baskets of the 
delicious bilberries that cover the wild hills of the north 
shore, from the first wane of summer until late in the 
autumn. 

The drain of the war had starved out the butcher’s stalls; 
but Indians and hunters took their places for the nonce 

38 


594 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


with an abundance of game of all kinds, which had multi- 
plied exceedingly during the years that men had taken to 
killing Bostonais and English instead of deer and wild tur- 
keys. 

The market abounded with the products of the chase by 
land and water. Wild geese, swans and canards on their 
passage from the Bay of Hudson and a thousand northern 
lakes, paid heavy toll on the battures of the Is/e aux Grues 
and on the Canardiere, where they congregated in scream- 
ing thousands before the closing in of winter upon the' St. 
Lawrence. 

Fish was in especial abundance ; the blessing of the old 
Jesuits still rested on the waters of New France, and the 
fish swarmed metaphorically with money in their mouths. 

There were piles of speckled trout fit to be eaten by 
Popes and Kings, taken in the little pure lakes and streams 
tributary to the Montmorency. Lordly salmon that swarm- 
ed in the tidal weirs along the shores of the St. Lawrence, 
and huge eels, thick as the arm of the fisher who drew 
them up from their rich river beds. 

In the early days of the colony these luscious eels formed 
the main staple of diet to the citizens of Quebec, who by 
reason of the scarcity of domestic animals, kept a sort of 
Lent the year round; but always with abundant thankfulness 
and fear of God, saving their souls while they filled their 
bellies and depending on the grace of Providence literally 
for their daily food. 

There were sacks of meal ground in the Banal mills 
of the Seigneuries for the people’s bread, but the old tin- 
ettes of yellow butter, the pride of the good wives of 
Beauport and Lauzon were rarely to be seen and command- 
ed unheard-of war prices ! The hungry children who used to 
eat tartines of bread buttered on both sides, were now 
accustomed to the cry of their frugal mother as she spread 
it ‘thin as if it were gold leaf : “ Mes enfants. take care of the 
butter ! ” 

The Commissaries of the Army, in other words, the 
agents of the Grand Company had swept the settlements 
far and near of their herds, and the habita7is soon discov- 
ered that the exposure for sale in the market of the pro- 
ducts of the dairy, was speedily followed by a visit from 
the purveyors of the Army, and the seizure of their re^ 
maining cattle. 


THE MARKET PLACE ON ST MARTINS DAY. 595 

Roots and other esculents of field and garden were 
more plentiful in the market, among which might have 
been seen the newly introduced potato, a vegetable long 
despised in New France, then endured, and now beginning 
to be liked and widely cultivated as a prime article of 
sustenance. 

Immense was the petty trafficking done that morning 
in the market of the upper town, amid the jangling of the 
Church bells and a babble of cheerful voices, such as may 
still be heard on the self-same spot on a market day, with 
but little change of language or even of subject in the 
market talk of the people frequenting it. 

At the upper angle of the square stood a lofty cross 
or holy rood, overtopping the low roofs of the shops and 
booths in its neighborhood. About the foot of the cross 
was a platform of timber raised a few feet from the ground, 
giving a commanding view of the whole market place. 

A crowd of habitans were gathered round this platform 
listening, some with exclamations of approval, not unmin- 
gled on the part of others with sounds of dissent, to the 
fervent address of one of the Jesuit Fathers from the Col- 
lege, who with Crucifix in hand was preaching to the peo- 
ple upon the vices and backslidings of the times. 

Father Goupion, the Superior of the order in New 
France, a grave saturnine man, and several other Fathers 
in close black cassocks and square caps, stood behind the 
preacher, watching with keen eyes the faces of the auditory 
as if to discover who were for and who were against the 
sentiments and opinions promulgated by the preacher. 

The storm of the great Jansenist controversy, which 
rent the Church of France from top to bottom, had not 
spared the colony, where it had early caused trouble ; for 
that controversy grew out of the Gallican liberties of the 
national Church and the right of national participation in 
its administrations and appointments. The Jesuits ever 
fiercely contested these liberties, they boldly set the tiara 
above the crown, and strove to subordinate all opinions of 
faith, morals, education and ecclesiastical government to 
the infallible judgment of the Pope alone. 

The Bishop and Clergy of New France had labored 
hard to prevent the introduction of that mischievious con- 
troversy into the colony, and had for the most part suc- 
ceeded in preserving their flocks, if not themselves, from 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


■596 

its malign influence. The growing agitation in France, 
however, made it more difficult to keep down troublesome 
spirits in the colony, and the idea got abroad, not without 
some foundation, that the Society of Jesus had secret 
commercial relations with the Friponne. This report fan- 
ned the mouldering fires of Jansenism into a flame visible 
enough and threatening enough to the peace of the church. 

The failure and bankruptcy of Father Vallette’s enor- 
mous speculations in the West Indies had filled France 
with bad debts and protested obligations which the Society 
of Jesus repudiated, but which the Parliament of Paris order- 
ed them to pay. The excitement was immense all over 
the Kingdom and the colonies. On the part of the order it 
became a fight for existence. 

The Jansenists and Molinists had long disputed the 
five theological propositions in terms that filled the vocab- 
ulary of invective with new-coined words of polemical 
warfare, and which afterwards supplied the fiery orators of 
the Revolution with an armory of- sharpest weapons. In 
fine, the pens and tongues of the rival controversialists set 
the whole Kingdom by the ears. 

The position of the order was becoming daily more 
critical in France. They were envied for their wealth and 
feared for their ability and their power. The secular clergy 
were for the most part against them. The Parliament of 
Paris in a violent decree had declared the Jesuits to have 
no legal standing in France. The rising minister, the 
Due de Choiseul, was bent upon suppressing them for 
their opposition to the modern philosophy. Voltaire and 
his followers, a growing host, thundered at them from the 
one side. The Vatican in a moment of inconsistency and 
ingratitude, thundered at them from the other. They were 
in the midst of fire, and still their ability and influence over 
individual consciences, and especially over the female sex, 
prolonged their power for fifteen years longer, when 
Louis XV., driven to the wall by the Jansenists, issued his 
memorable decree declaring the Jesuits to be rebels, trait- 
ors and stirrers up of mischief. The King confiscated their 
possessions, proscribed their persons, and banished them 
from the Kingdom as enemies of the state. 

The dissolution of the order in France, was naturally 
followed by its dissolution in Canada, and the great Col- 
lege of Quebec, which had sent out scholars to teach the 


THE MARKET PLACE ON ST MARTINS DA Y, 597 

people, missionaries to convert the heathen, and martyrs to 
die for their faith, in every part of North America subject 
to France, became a barrack for English soldiers, and such 
it continued to our day ! The Cross carved over the an- 
cient gateway, with the sacred letters I H S and the crown 
of thorns surmounting the weather-vane upon the top of 
its highest pinnacle, alone remain to show the original pur- 
pose of that imposing structure. But these trials were yet to 
come. The first rumbling of the distant storm was as yet 
only beginning to be heard in New France. 

Padre Monti, an Italian newly arrived in the colony, 
was a man very different from the venerable Vimont and the 
Jogues and the Lallements, who had preached the Evangel 
to the wild tribes of the forest, and rejoiced when they won 
the crown of martyrdom for themselves. 

Monti was a bold man in his way, and ready to dare any 
bold deed in the interests of religion, which he could not 
dissociate from the interests of his order. He stood up, 
erect and commanding, upon the platform under the Holy 
Rood, while he addressed with fiery eloquence and Italian 
gesticulation the crowd of people gathered round him. 

The subject he chose was an exciting one. He en- 
larged upon the coming of Anti-Christ and upon the new 
philosophy of the age, the growth of Gallicanism in the 
colony, with its schismatic progeny of Jansenists and 
Honnetes Gens, to the discouragement of True religion and 
the endangering of immortal souls. 

His covert allusions and sharp innuendoes were 
perfectly understood by his hearers, and signs of dissen- 
tient feeling were rife among the crowd. Still the people 
continued to listen on the whole respectfully, for whatever 
might be the sentiment of old France with respect to the 
Jesuits, they had in New France inherited the profound 
respect of the colonists, and deserved it. 

The preacher, the better to excite the sympathy and 
enlist the prejudices of the people, launched out into a 
long allegory on the suffering of Faith, which he described 
as Christ laid on the wayside, stripped, wounded, and 
half dead, like the man who went down to Jericho and fell 
among thieves. 

Priest and Levite meaning the Jansenists and seculat 
clergy, passed him by and went on the other side. The 
good Samaritan, meaning the Jesuit Fathers, had had 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


598 

compassion on him, bound up his wounds, pouring in oil 
and wine, and took him to the Inn, the Church, where they 
left him in charge of the host, with two-pence, the tithes 
and offerings of the faithful, to take care of him, with a 
promise to repay whatever was spent more. 

‘‘ There were three crosses raised on Calvary,’’ con- 
tinued the preacher, “ one for the impenitent thief who 
railed and was damned, one for the penitent thief who 
confessed his sin and supped with his Lord in Paradise ; 
but Christ’s cross alone is enough for us, let us embrace 
and kiss that ! ” 

The preacher turned round and clasped the Holy Rood 
in his arms after the fervid manner of Italians, and all his 
hearers crossed themselves and repeated amen ! He 
waited for the space of a miserere 2 lX\^ went on. 

“ This is all we need to live by, and die by. Oh ! my 
brothers ! But do we live by it ? We crucify our Lord 
daily by our trespasses and sins, but do we also crucify 
the thieves in our midst The Jansenists who rob God of 
his honors, and man of the merits of his works ! who cry 
grace ! grace ! when they should cry work and pray ! pray 
and work and earn as faithful laborers — God’s hire if it be 
only a penny in the eleventh hour ! ” 

The HofinUes Gens rob God of his dues, and the 
king’s subjects of their hearts, crying peace, peace, and 
withhold the tribute money of Caesar, the king’s dues and 
taxes, and appeal to the Parliament of Paris not to register 
the decrees of our lawful authorities ! The Jansenists and 
the Honnetes Gens sit on high seats and are protected 
and cherished in king’s houses ; yea ! in castles ! ” The 
preacher glanced over his shoulder at the pinnacles of the 
Castle of St. Louis, visible above the housetops which 
intervened between it and the market place. • 

‘‘No wonder charity waxeth cold in the rich, and the 
spirit of disobedience increaseth in the poor ! These are 
pregnant signs of the consummation of the age, in which, 
if the days be not shortened, your house shall soon be left 
to you desolate ! ” 

“ The Jansenists and Honneies Gens sit da}" after day in 
their seats like so many Pilates, asking — ‘ what is Truth ?’ 
and disputing the decrees of the Church — with threats to 
refer them to the Parliament of private judgment ! Serpentes 
— O I Geiiimina Viper aru?n I Qiiomodo fugietis a judicio 


THE MARKET PLACE ON ST. MARTINS DAY. 599 

Gehe7i7icB ? O ! generation of vipers ! How will you 
escape the damnation of hell ? ’’ 

These are things, O, my hearers ! to call down upon 
our heads the sword of St. Michael, more terrible than the 
sword of the English.’’ 

“The Scribes and the Pharisees of Jansenism no 
longer sit in Moses’ seat, to despute the droit and the fait 
from the bocage of Port Royal which is covered with the 
ruins of their house and overgrown with nettles, docks, 
and all evil weeds — the product of their five heresies, con- 
demned like tares to everlasting fire, by the anathema of 
the Vatican ! But they disappear as Religieux, to reappear 
as politicians and Ho777ietes GeTis I In the seditious 
parliaments of Paris and Rouen, and among the Bourgeois 
of the colonies, like the Golden Dog, they threaten to 
bite the good shepherds who take care of the flock of 
Christ ! ” 

A commotion and cries of dissent broke from a portion 
of the crowd, but the intrepid Jesuit went on. 

“ The Jansenists build not the tombs of the prophets, 
but only the tomb of the anti-prophet. Diacre Paris, of 
St. Medard, where the uncanonized saint amid convulsions 
of men and women, wrought his two only miracles ! The 
man who came to the tomb to pray for the restoration of 
his one broken leg, was carried out with two ! and the 
woman, whom the uncanonized saint cured of an issue, 
went blind instead ! The prayers of St. Paris are naught. 
God only heard them to their confusion.” 

A loud laugh followed this sally of the preacher, not at 
the irreverence of the remark, but at the defeat of the 
Jansenists, which showed that half the crowd of hearers 
at least, had no sympathy with the teachings of Port 
Royal. 

The laugh, however, was met with many indignant 
denials, from another portion of the crowd, of the preacher^s 
version of the miracles at the tomb of Diacre Paris. One 
side seemed as determined to believe, as the others were 
to dispute the genuineness of the miracles asserted to have 
been wrought there ; a point which at that moment divided 
France itself into two uncompromising theological camps, 
to the intense delight of the Savans and philosophers who 
ridiculed both sides, and religion itself. 

The king ordered the tomb to be walled up, and no 


6oo 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


one to be allowed to approach it. This measure gave 
occasion to the famous Jansenist pasquinade, written over 
the gate of the cemetery of St. Medard — 

“ De par le Roy ! Defence a Dieu, 

De plus operer en ce lieu 

A few gentlemen, some in military, some in fashionable 
civil attire, strolled up towards the crowd, but stood some- 
what aloof, and outside of it. The market people pressed 
closer and closer round the platform, listening with mouths 
open, and eager eyes to the sermon, storing it away in 
their retentive memories, which would reproduce every 
word of it, when they sat round the fire-side in the coming 
winter evenings. 

One or two Recollets stood at a modest distance from 
the crowd, still as statues, with their hands hid in the 
sleeves of their grey gowns, shaking their heads at the 
arguments, and still more at the invectives of the Preacher ; 
for the Recollets were accused, wrongfully perhaps, of 
studying the five propositions of Port Royal, more than 
beseemed the humble followers of St. Francis to do, and 
they either could not or would not repel the accusation. 

The Jesuits were not a little feared by the other 
religious orders, for their intellectual superiority — their 
subtle spirit, and untiring perseverance, which by high- 
ways or by-ways never failed to achieve its objects. The 
Recollets were loved and not feared at all. Too much 
familiarity with all classes, especially with the poor, while 
it did not lessen the value of their labors, rubbed off some 
of the respect that was their due. 

A proverb was current in the colony, that a fine pen- 
knife was needed to carve a Jesuit, a Priest required a 
sharp chisel, but an axe was good enough to block out a 
Recollet! yet, despite this homely opinion of the good 
brothers of St. Francis, they came closer to the. people’s 
hearts than any other of the religious orders. 

Padre Monti deserves the best thanks of the Intendant 
for this sermon,” remarked the Sieur D’Estebe, to Le 
Mercier, who accompanied him. 

“ And the worst thanks of His Excellency the Count ! 
It was bold of the Italian to beard the Governor in that 
manner ! But La Gallissoniere is too great a philosoph 


THE MARKET PLACE ON ST. MARTINIS DAY. 6oi 

to mind a priest ! was the half-scoffing reply of Le 
Mercier. 

‘‘ Is he ? J do not think so, Le Mercier. I hate them 
myself, but egad ! I am not philosoph enough to let them 
know it ! One may do so at Paris, but not in New France. 
Besides, the Jesuits are just now our fast friends, and it 
does not do to quarrel with your supporters ! ’’ 

True, D’Estebe ! we get no help from the Recollets. 
Look yonder at Brothers Ambrose and Daniel ! they would 
like to tie Padre Monti neck and heels with the cords of 
St. Francis, and bind him over to keep the peace towards 
Port Royal ! but the grey gowns are afraid of the black 
robes. Padre Monti knew they would not catch the ball 
when he threw it. The Recollets are all afraid to hurl it 
back.’’ 

‘‘Not all,” was the reply; “the Reverend Father de 
Berey would have thrown it back with a vengeance ! But 
I confess, Le Mercier, the Padre is a bold fellow to pitch 
into the Honnetes Ge7is the way he does. I did not think 
he would have ventured upon it here in the market, in face 
of so many habitajis, who swear by the Bourgeois Phili- 
bert. ” 

“ O ! it was quite time to check the prevailing murmurs 
of discontent, and give the Honnetes Gens a hint to mode- 
rate their hostility. Besides, the Jansenists are lifting their 
heads again in France, saucy as ever, and we are sure to 
feel the effects of it here. Don’t you think so, D’Estebe ?” 

“Yes,” replied Le Mercier, “they say the Parliament of 
Paris and half the Court are Jansenists on all-fours, and 
that the overthrow of the Jesuits is a settled thing among 
the leading philosophs of Versailles. De Choiseul is the 
head and tail of the plot. His itching fingers long to 
touch the money bags of the Society of Jesus.” 

“ It will be doomsday with the order, if DeChoiseul get 
the upper hand,” continued Le Mercier, “ Nor are we much 
better off here. The Count has been fuming like the 
kitchen chimney of the castle, ever since he . got wind of 
that affair at Ville Marie.” 

“ What affair, Mercier ? ” added D’Estebe. 

“ Why, that affair of the comptoirs of the Demoiselles 
Desaulniers at Sault St. Louis. DeChoiseul is making a 
handle of it, I assure you ! ” 

“ Oh 1 I heard of that from the Intendant. What a 


6o2 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


fruitful text to preach from ! If the Recollets only had 
wit and courage, how they might retort. Eh, Le Mercier ? 
but how did it leak out ? That secret was supposed to be 
water and fire-proof. Those cursed old maids must have 
babbled as women will.’’ 

‘‘ No ; the Demoiselles Desaulniers were tight as wax. 
They never told the secret. It was the Bourgeois Philibert, 
the Golden Dog, who nosed it out, as he does everything 
else to our disadvantage.” 

This was in allusion to an immense fur-trading establish- 
ment carried on in the mission at Sault St. Louis, in the 
name of a couple of maiden ladies of Montreal. The real 
owners of the establisment being certain Jesuit Fathers, 
who the better to secure their influence over the Iroquois 
of Caughnawaga and to stop their secret dealings with the 
English, erected these comptoirs at Sault St. Louis in the 
name of the Demoiselles Desaulniers. 

The grand company encouraged this establishment, caring 
nothing for the religious considerations of the Jesuits, 
but hoped to secure the support of the order by allowing 
them a secret share in the fur trade. 

During the war no controversy had been raised respect- 
ing that establishment, but with the advent of peace the 
sparks of discontent were blown speedily into a flame. 

Upon the arrival of the Marquis de Jonquieres as Gover- 
nor in place of the Count de la Gallissoniere, a fierce con- 
troversy began with the college of Jesuits in regard to the 
comptoirs of the Demoiselles Desaulniers. 

The end of it was that the Marquis de Jonquieres sum- 
marily decided all points according to his own view of the 
matter, and closed up the establishment by a royal decree. 

This affair caused immense feeling and unpleasantness, 
and was afterwards brought up in judgment against the 
Order in connection 'with their avowed commercial specu- 
lations in the West Indies, the failure of which aggravated 
the theological quarrel with the Jansenists, and led to the 
suppression of the whole Order in France and her colonies. 

The bold denunciations by the preacher against the 
Honnetes Ge7is and against the people’s friend and protector, 
the Bourgeois Philibert, caused a commotion in the crowd 
of habitans^ who began to utter louder and louder excla- 
mations of dissent and remonstrance. A close observer 
would have noticed angry looks and clenched fists in many 


7 'HE MARKET PLACE ON ST. MARTINIS DAY. 603 

parts of the crowd, pressing closer and closer round the 
platform. 

The signs of increasing tumult in the crowd did not 
escape the sharp eyes of Father Glapion, who, seeing that 
the hot-blooded Italian was over-stepping the bounds of 
prudence in his harangue, called him by name, and with a 
half angry sign, brought his sermon suddenly to* a close. 
Padre Monti ooeyed with the unquestioning promptness of 
an automaton. He stopped instantly, without rounding 
the period or finishing the sentence that was in his mouth. 

His flushed and ardent manner changed to the calmness 
of marble, as lifting up his hands with a dtvowt oremiis, he 
uttered a brief prayer and left the puzzled people to finish 
his speech and digest at leisure his singular sermon. 

‘‘ I do not care for the Jansenists. Our Cure says they 
are no better than Calvinists.’’ remarked an old staid 
habitan to his neighbor. A good deed without a word 
spoken, is a better prayer for a Christian man than a ship- 
load of sermons like the Padre’s ; but lo ! they are all 
going back into the college.” 

“ High time,” was the reply, High time. Broken heads 
would have been plentiful as potatoes in the market, had 
he continued to denounce the JTonnetes Gens and the Colden 
Dog. If he had only continued to belabor the Jansenists, 
nobody could feel sorry. They can be kicked, for they 
have few friends. I mock at St. Paris, but neither do I 
believe in the Friponne.” 

“ You say right, neighbor. The Jesuits are too learned 
for you and me. I am more afraid than fond of them. It 
would be long before a plain honest Recollet would bid 
us distrust the HoimHes Gens — the people’s friends — or 
warn us against the bite of the Colden Dog.” 

“Pray, say not so, Jean Huot,” said ~a quiet voice, 
while a gentle hand twitched his sleeve. It was the Re- 
collet Brother Daniel. “We only teach you to fear Cod, 
to honor the King, and respect those in authority ; to be 
no brawlers, but gentle, showing all meekness to all men. 
Our good Brothers the Jesuits teach you the same things, 
only they set greater store by the wise head than by the 
loving heart, unlike us poor Recollets who have only 
wisdom enough to know that charity never faileth, while 
knowledge vanisheth away, for though we have faith to 
remove mountains, and have not charity, we are nothing.” 


THE CHIEH HOE, 


604 

The soft words of Brother Daniel fell like oil upon the 
troubled waters. The angry crowd relaxed its pressure 
round the Holy Rood and dispersed through the market, 
carrying to every cart, stall and group of people, a feeling 
of uneasiness, as if the troubles of the day were not over. 
The sermon had excited the people, and wherever a cluster 
of habitans or citizens got together, the Padre's bold 
attack upon the Governor and the HonjiHes Gens was dis- 
cussed with heat and acrimony. 

The market was now thronged with people busily mak- 
ing their little purchases, and paying out their money with 
a careful hand, for the hard times severely pinched the 
purses and baskets of the poor. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

“ BLESSED THEY WHO DIE DOING THY WILL.^’ 

I T was the practice of the Bourgeois Philibert to leave 
his counting-room to walk through the market place, 
not for the sake of the greetings he met, although he 
received them from every side, nor to buy or sell on his 
own account, but to note with quick, sympathizing eye the 
poor and needy, and to relieve their wants. 

Especially did he love to meet the old, the feeble, the 
widow and the orphan, so numerous from the devastation 
of the 'long and bloody war. 

He knew the poor even better than the rich. It was 
his delight to call them by name, to fill their emjDty baskets 
with good things, to send them home rejoicing, and not 
thanking him for it too much ! He carefully taught them 
that he was only a poor steward of his Lord’ s goorls, and 
Christ bade all men be loving and helpful to each other. 

The Bourgeois had another daily custom which he ob- 
served with unfailing regularity. His table in the House 
of the Golden Dog was set every day with twelve covers 
and dishes for twelve guests — “ the twelv^e apostles,” as he 
gaily used to say, whom I love to have dine with me, and 
who come to my door in the guise of poor, hungry and 


“BLESSED THEY WHO DIE." ETC. 


60s 

thirsty men, needing meat and drink. Strangers to be 
taken in, and sick wanting a friend.’’ If no other guests 
came he was always sure of the “ apostles ” to empty his 
table,and, while some simple dish sufficed for himself, he or- 
dered the whole banquet to be given away to the poor. His 
choice wines, which he scarcely permitted himself to taste, 
were removed from his table, and sent to the Hotel Dieu, 
the great Convent of the Nuns Hospitalieres, for the use of 
the sick in their charge, while the Bourgeois returned 
thanks with a heart more content than if kings had dined 
at his table. 

To-day was the day of St. Martin, the anniversary of 
the death of his wife, who still lived in his memory fresh 
as upon the day he took her away as his bride from her 
Norman home. Upon every recurrence of that day, and 
upon some other special times and holidays, his bounty was 
doubled, and the Bourgeois made preparations, as he jocu- 
larly used to say, ‘‘ not only for the twelve apostles, but 
for the seventy disciples as well ! ” 

He had just dressed himself with scrupulous neatness 
in the fashion of a plain gentleman, as was his wont, with- 
out a trace of foppery. With his stout gold-headed cane 
in his hand, he was descending the stairs to go out as 
usual to the market, when Dame Rochelle accosted him in 
the hall. 

Her eyes and whole demeanor wore an expression of 
deep anxiety as the good Dame looked up in the face of 
the Bourgeois : 

‘‘ Do not go to the market to-day, dear master ! ” said 
she beseechingly ; I have been there myself and have 
ordered all we need for the due honor of the day.” 

“ Thanks, good Dame, for remembering the blessed an- 
niversary, but you know I am expected in the market. 
It is one of my special days. Who is to fill the baskets of 
the poor people who feel a delicacy about coming for alms 
to the door, unless I go. Charity fulfils its mission best 
when it respects the misfortune of being poor in the per- 
sons of its recipients. I must make my round of the mar- 
ket, good Dame.” 

“And still, dear master, go not to-day ; I never asked 
you before \ I do this time. I fear some evil this morn- 
ing ! ” 

The Bourgeois looked at her inquiringly. He knew 


6o6 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


the good Dame too well not to be sure she had some 
weighty reason for her request. 

“ What particularly moves you to this singular request, 
Dame Rochelle } ’’ asked he. 

‘‘ A potent reason, master, but it would not weigh a 
grain with you as with me. There is this morning a wild 
spirit afloat — people’s minds have been excited by a ser- 
mon from one of the College Fathers. The friends of the 
Intendant are gathered in force, they say, to clear the mar- 
ket of the Ho7inetes Gens, A disturbance is impending. 
That, master, is one reason. My other is a presentiment 
that some harm will befall you if you go to the market in 
the midst of such excitement.” 

“Thanks, good Dame,” replied the Bourgeois calmly, 
“ both for your information and your presentiment ; but 
they only furnish an additional reason why I should go to 
try to prevent any disturbance among my fellow citizens.” 

“ Still, master, you see not what I see, and hear not 
what I hear, and would not believe it did I tell you ! I 
beseech you go not to-day ! ” exclaimed she, imploringly, 
clasping her hands in the eagerness of her appeal. 

“ Good Dame,” replied he, “I deeply respect your solici- 
tude, but I could not, without losing all respect for myself 
as a gentleman, stay away out of any consideration of im- 
pending danger. I should esteem it my duty all the more to 
go, if there be danger, which I cannot believe.” 

“O, that Pierre were here to accompany you ! But at 
least take some servants with you, master,” implored the 
Dame, persisting in her request. 

“ Good Dame, P cannot consult fear when I have duty 
to perform ; besides I am in no danger. I have enemies 
enough, I know ; but he would be a bold man who would 
assail the Bourgeois Philibert in the open market place of 
Quebec.” 

“Yet, there may be such a bold man, master,” replied 
she. “ There are many such then who would consider they 
did the Intendant and themselves good service by com- 
passing your destruction ! ” 

“ May be so. Dame, but I should be a mark of scorn for 
all men if I evaded a duty, small or great, through fear of 
the Intendant, or any of his friends.” 

“ I knew my appeal would be in vain, master, but for- 
give my anxiety. God help you ! God defend you ! ” 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE^ ETC. 607 

She looked at him fixedly for a moment. He saw her 
features were quivering with emotion and her eyes filled 
with tears. 

‘‘Good Dame,” said he kindly, taking her hand, “ I 
respect your motives, and will so far show my regard for 
your forecast of danger as to take my sword, which after a 
good conscience is the best friend a gentleman can have to 
stand by him in peril. Please bring it to me.” 

“Willingly, master, and may it be like the sword of the 
Cherubim, to guard and protect you to-day! ” 

She went into the great hall for the rapier of the 
Bourgeois, which he only wore on occasions of full dress 
and ceremony. He took it smilingly from her hand, and, 
throwing the belt over his shoulder, bade Dame Ro- 
chelle good-bye, and proceeded to the market. 

The Dame looked earnestly after him until he turned 
the corner of the great Cathedral, when, wiping her eyes, 
she went into the house and sat down pensively for some 
minutes. 

“ Would that Pierre had not gone to St. Ann’s to-day 1” 
cried she. “ My master I my noble, good master 1 I feel 
there is evil abroad for him in the market to-day.” She 
turned as was her wont in time of trouble to the open 
Bible that ever lay upon her table, and sought strength in 
meditation upon its sacred pages. 

There was much stir in the market when the Bourgeois 
began his accustomed walk among the stalls, stopping to 
converse with such friends as he met, and especially with 
the poor and infirm, who did not follow him — he hated to 
be followed — but who stood waiting his arrival at certain 
points which he never failed to pass. The Bourgeois 
knew that his poor almsmen would be standing there, and 
he would no more avoid them than he would avoid the 
Governor. 

A group of girls very gaily dressed loitered through the 
market, purchasing bouquets of the last of autumnal 
flowers, and coquetting with the young men of fashion who 
chose the market place for their morning promenade, and 
wTo spent their smiles and wit freely, and sometimes their 
money, upon the young ladies they expected to find there. 

This morning the Demoiselles Grandmaison and Hebert 
were cheapening immortelles and dry flowers to decorate 


6o8 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


their winter vases — a pleasant fashion not out of date in 
the city at the present clay. 

The attention of these young ladies was quite as much 
taken up with the talk of their cavaliers as with their 
bargaining, when a quick exclamation greeted them from a 
lady on horseback, accompanied by the Chevalier De 
Pean. She drew bridle sharply in front of the group, and 
leaning down from her saddle gave her hand to the ladies, 
bidding them good morning in a cheery voice which there 
was no mistaking, although her face was invisible behind 
her veil. It was Angelique Des Meloises, more gay and 
more fascinating than ever. 

She noticed two gentlemen in the group. O pardon 
me. Messieurs Le Mercier and D’Estebe ! ” said she, “ I did 
not perceive you. My veil is so in the way ! ’’ She pushed 
it aside coquettishly and gave a finger to each of the 
gentlemen, who returned her greeting with extreme polite 
ness. 

^‘Good morning! say you, Angelique,’* exclaimed . 
Mademoiselle Hebert, ‘‘It is a good noon. You have 
slept rarely 1 How bright and fresh you look, darling! 

“ Do I not! ’’ laughed Angelique in reply. “ It is the 
morning air and a good conscience make it ! Are you 
buying flowers ? I have been to Sillery for mine ! ’’ said 
she, patting her blooming cheeks with the end of her 
riding whip. She had no time for further parley, for her 
attention was suddenly directed by De Pean to some stir 
upon the other side of the market, with an invitation to her 
to ride over and see what was the matter. Angelique at 
once wheeled her horse to accompany De Pean. 

The group of girls felt themselves eclipsed and over- 
borne by the queenly airs of Angelique, and were glad 
when she jnoved off, fearing that by some adroit man- 
oeuvre she would carry off their cavaliers. It needed but 
a word, as they knew, to draw them all after her ! 

Angelique, under the lead of De Pean, rode quickly 
towards the scene of confusion, where men were gesticula- 
ting fiercely and uttering loud angry words, such as usually 
precede the drawing of swords and the rush of combatants. 

To her suprise, she recognized Le Gardeur De Repen- 
tigny, very drunk, and wild with anger, in the act of leap- 
ing off his horse with oaths of vengeance against some one 
whom she could not distinguish in the throng. 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE;' ETC. 609 

Le Gardeur had just risen from the gaming table where 
he had been playing all night. He was maddened with 
drink and excited by great losses, which in his rage 
he called unfair. 

“ Colonel St. Remi had rooked him at Piquet,” he said, 
and refused him the chance of an honorable gamester to 
win back some part of his losses. His antagonist had left 
the Palace like a sneak ! and he was riding round the city 
to find him and horsewhip him if he would not- fight like a 
gentleman ! 

Le Gardeur was accompanied by the Sieur de Lantag- 
nac who, by splendid dissipation, had won his whole 
confidence. Le Gardeur when drunk thought the world 
did not contain a finer fellow than Lantagnac, whom he 
thoroughly despised when sober. 

At a hint from De Pean, the Sieur de Lantagnac had 
clung to Le Gardeur that morning like his shadow, had 
drunk with him again and again, exciting his wrath against 
St. Remi ; but apparently keeping his own head clear 
enough for whatever mischief De Pean had put into it. 

They rode together to the market place, hearing that 
St. Remi was at the sermon. Their object, as Le Gardeur 
believed, was to put an unpardonable insult upon St. Remi, 
by striking him with his whip, and forcing him to fight 
a duel with Le Gardeur or his friend. The reckless 
De Lantagnac asserted loudly “ he did not care a straw 
which ! ” 

Le Gardeur and De Lantagnac rode furiously through 
the market, heedless of what they encountered or whom 
they ran over, and were followed by a yell of indignation 
from the people who recognized them as gentlemen of the 
Grand Company. 

It chanced that at that moment a poor almsman of the 
Bourgeois Philibert was humbly and quietly leaning on his 
crutches, listening with bowing head and smiling lips, 
to the kind inquiries of his benefactor, as he received his 
accustomed alms. 

De Lantagnac rode up furiously, followed by Le 
Gardeur. De Lantagnac recognized the Bourgeois, who 
stood in his way, talking to the crippled soldier. He 
cursed him between his teeth and lashed his horse with 
intent to ride him down, as if by accident. 

The Bourgeois saw them approach and motioned them 
39 


6io 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


to Stop, but in vain. The horse of De Lantagnac just 
swerved in its course, and without checking his speed, ran 
over the crippled man, who instantly rolled in the dust, 
his face streaming with blood, from a ' sharp stroke of the 
horse’s shoe upon his forehead. 

Immediately following De Lantagnac, came Le Gar- 
deur, lashing his horse and yelling like a demon to all to 
clear the way ! 

The Bourgeois was startled at this new danger, not to 
himself — he thought not of himself — but to the bleeding 
man lying prostrate upon the ground. He sprang forward 
to prevent Le Gardeur’s horse going over him. 

He did not, in the haste and confusion of the moment, 
recognize Le Gardeur, who inflamed with wine and frantic 
with passion, was almost past recognition by any who knew 
him in his normal state. Nor did Le Gardeur in his frenzy, 
recognize the presence of the Bourgeois, whose voice call- 
ing him by name, with an appeal to his better nature, 
would undoubtedly have checked his headlong career. 

But it was not to be ! the terrible game of life, where 
each man is like a pawn on the world’s chess-board, 
the game played by the spirits of good and evil, was 
played to-day for the life of the Bourgeois Philibert, 
and the good lost and the evil won! 

The moment was critical. It was one of those points 
of time where the threads of many lives and many des- 
tinies cross and intersect each other, and thence part 
different ways, leading to life or death, happiness or 
despair for ever 1 

Le Gardeur spurred his horse madly over the wounded 
man, who lay upon the ground ; but he did not hear him, 
he did not see him ! Let it be said for Le Gardeur, 
if aught can be said in his defense, he did not see him. 
His horse was just about to trample upon the prostrate 
cripple lying in the dust, when his bridle was suddenly 
and firmly seized by the hand of the Bourgeois, and 
his horse wheeled round with such violence, that rearing 
back upon his haunches, he almost threw his rider head- 
long. 

Le Gardeur, not knowing the reason of this sudden 
interference, and flaming with wrath, leaped to the ground 
just at the moment when Angelique and De Pean rode up. 
Le Gardeur neither knew nor cared at that moment who 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE;' ETC. 6il 

his antagonist was ; he saw but a bold presumptuous man 
who had seized his bridle, and whom it was his desire to 
punish on the spot. 

De Pean recognized the stately figure and fearless look 
of the Bourgeois, confronting Le Gardeur. The triumph' 
of the Friponne was at hand. De Pean rubbed his hands 
with ecstasy as he called out to Le Gardeur, his voice ring- 
ing above the din of the crowd, ‘^Ac/ievez-le I Finish him ! 
Le Gardeur ! ’’ 

Angelique sat upon her horse fixed as a statue and 
as pale as marble, not at the danger of the Bourgeois, 
whom she at once recognized, but out of fear for her lover, 
exposed to the menaces of. the crowd, who were all on the 
side of the Bourgeois. The flash and suddenness of the 
catastrophe came and went, leaving its irreparable train of 
ruin behind it. Like a thunderbolt that splits the wall of 
a palace, and strikes the king in the midst of his honors ; 
so the Bourgeois was stricken in the midst of his good 
works ! 

Le Gardeur leaped down from his horse and advanced 
with a terrible imprecation upon the Bourgeois, and struck 
him with his whip. The brave old merchant had the soul 
of a marshal of France. His blood boiled at the insult, 
he raised his staff to ward off a second blow, and struck 
Le Gardeur sharply upon the wrist, making his whip fly 
out of his hand. Le Gardeur instantly •advanced again 
upon him, but was pressed back by the habitans, who 
rushed to the defence of the Bourgeois. Then came the 
tempter to his ear, a word or two ! and the fate of many 
innocent lives was decided in a moment ! 

Le Gardeur suddenly felt a hand laid upon his shoulder, 
and heard a voice, a woman’s voice, speaking to him in 
passionate tones. 

Angelique had forced her horse into the thick of the 
crowd. She was no longer calm nor pale with apprehen- 
sion, but her face was flushed redder than fire, and her eyes, 
those magnetic orbs, which drove men mad, blazed upon Le 
Gardeur with all their terrible influence. She had seen 
him struck by the Bourgeois, and her anger was equal to 
his own. 

De Pean saw the opportunity. 

“ Angelique,” exclaimed he the Bourgeois strikes Le 
Gardeur ! What an outrage ! Can you bear it ? ” . 


6i2 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


Never ! replied she, neither shall Le Gardeur 
With a plunge of her horse, she forced her way close to 
Le Gardeur, and leaning over him, laid her hand upon his 
shoulder, and exclaimed, in a voice choking with passion — ■ 
“ Com7ne7it.^ Le Gardeur ! vous souffrez qu'un Malva 
C0777fne ga vous ahiTTte de coups ^ et vous portez Veph ! 

‘‘ What, Le Gardeur ! you allow a ruffian like that to load 
you with blows, and you wear a sword ? ’’ 

It was enough ! that look, that word, would have made 
Le Gardeur slaughter his father at that moment ! 

Astonished at the sight of Angelique, and maddened by 
her words as much as by the blow he had received, Le 
Gardeur swore he would have revenge upon the spot. 
With a wild cry, and the strength and agility of a panther, 
he twisted himself out of the grasp of the habitaTis, and 
drawing his sword, before any man could stop him, thrust 
it to the hilt through the body of the Bourgeois, who, not 
expecting this sudden assault, had not put himself in an 
attitude of defense to meet it. 

The Bourgeois fell dying by the side of the bleeding 
man who had just received his alms, and in whose protec- 
tion he had thus risked and lost his own life. 

“ Bravo, Le Gardeur ! exclaimed De Pean, that was 
the best stroke ever given in New France ! The Golden 
Dog is done for, and the Bourgeois has paid his debt to 
the Grand Company ! ” 

Le Gardeur looked up wildly. Who is he, De Pean ?’’ 
exclaimed he. What man have I killed ’’ 

“ The Bourgeois Philibert, who else ! ’’ shouted De 
Pean, with a tone of exultation. 

Le Gardeur uttered a wailing cry, ‘‘ The Bourgeois Phil- 
ibert ! have I slain the Bourgeois Philibert ? De Pean lies, 
Angelique ! ” said he, suddenly turning to her. ‘‘ I would 
not kill a sparrow belonging to the Bourgeois Philibert ! O 
tell me De Pean lies ! ” 

‘‘ De Pean does not lie, Le Gardeur,” answered she, 
frightened at his look. “ The Bourgeois struck you first ! 

I saw him strike you first with his staffi You are a gentle- 
man, and would kill the king if he struck you like a dog 
with his staff. Look where they are lifting him up. You 
see it is the Bourgeois, and no other.” 

Le Gardeur gave one wild look and recognized the well- 
known form and features of the Bourgeois. He threw his 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE,^^ ETC. 613 

sword on the ground, exclaiming, “ Oh ! oh ! unhappy man 
that I am ! It is parricide ! parricide ! to have slain the 
father of my brother Pierre ! Oh ! Angdique des Meloises ! 
you made me draw my sword, and I knew not who it was 
or what I did ! ’’ 

‘‘ I told you, Le Gardeur, and you are angry with me. 
But see ! hark ! what a tumult is gathering ; we must get 
out of this throng, or we shall all be killed as well as the 
Bourgeois ! Fly, Le Gardeur, fly ! Go to the Palace ! ” 

“ To hell sooner ; never shall the Palace see me again ! ” 
exclaimed he madly. “The people shall kill me if they will, 
but save yourself, Angelique ! De Pean, lead her instantly 
away from this cursed spot, or all the blood is not spilt that 
will be spilt to-day. This is of your contriving, De Pean ! ” 
cried he, looking savagely, as if about to spring upon him. 

“You would not harm me or her, Le Gardeur?” inter- 
rupted De Pean, turning pale at his fierce look. 

“ Harm her ! you fool, no ! but I will harm you if you 
do not instantly take her away out of this tumult. I must 
see the Bourgeois. Oh, God ! if he be dead !” 

A great cry now ran through the market place, “ The 
Bourgeois is killed ! The Grand Company have assas- 
sinated the Bourgeois ! ” Men ran up from every side, 
shouting and gesticulating. The news spread like wild- 
fire through the city, and simultaneously a yell for ven- 
geance rose from the excited multitude. 

The Recollet Brother Daniel had been the first to fly to 
the help of the Bourgeois. His grey robe presently was dyed 
red with the blood of the best friend and protector of their 
monastery. But death was too quick for even one prayer 
to be heard or uttered by the dying man. 

The grey brother made the sign of the cross upon the 
forehead of the Bourgeois, who opened his eyes once, for a 
moment, and looked in the face of the good friar, while his 
lips quivered with two inarticulate words — “ Pierre ! 
Amelie ! ” That was all ! His brave eyes closed again for- 
ever from the light of the sun. The good Bourgeois Phil- 
ibert was dead ! “ Blessed are the dead who die in the 

Lord,” repeated the Recollet. “ Even so, says the Spirit, 
for they rest from their labors ! ” 

De Pean had foreseen the likelihood of a popular com- 
motion. He was ready to fly on the instant, but could not 
prevail on Angelique to leave Le Gardeur, who was kneel 


THE CHIEN n OR. 


614 

ing down by the side of the Bourgeois, lifting him in his 
arms and uttering the wildest accents of grief as he gazed 
upon the pallid, immovable face of the friend of his youth. 

That is the assassin ! and the woman, too ! ’h cried a 
sturdy hahitan. “I heard her bid him draw his sword 
upon the Bourgeois ! 

The crowd for the moment believed that De Bean had 
been the murderer of Philibert. 

No, not he ! It was the other ! It was the officer 
who dismounted ! The drunken officer ! Who Avas he ? 
Where is he ? ’’ cried the habitan, forcing his way into the 
presence of Le Gardeur, who was still kneeling by the side 
of the Bourgeois, and was not seen for a few moments, but 
quickly he was identified. 

“ That is he ! ’’ cried a dozen voices. ‘‘ He is looking if 
he has killed him ! By God ! ” 

A number of men rushed upon Le Gardeur, who made 
no defense, but continued kneeling beside the Recollet 
Brother Daniel, over the body of the Bourgeois. He was 
instantly seized by some of the crowd. He held out his 
hands and bade them ‘‘ take him prisoner, or kill him on 
the spot, if they would, for it was he who had killed the 
Bourgeois ! ” 

Half-a-dozen swords were instantly drawn as if to take 
him at his word, when the terrible shrieks of Angel ique 
pierced every ear. The crowd turned in astonishment to 
see who it was on horseback that cried so terribly : “ Do 
not kill him ! Do not kill Le Gardeur De Repentigny ! 
She called several citizens by name and entreated them to 
help to save him. 

By her sudden interference, Angelique caused a diver- 
sion in the crowd. Le Gardeur rose up to his feet, and many 
persons recognized him with astonishment and incredulity, 
for no one could believe that he had killed the good Bour- 
geois, who was known to have been the warm friend of the 
whole family of De Repentigny. 

De Pean, taking advantage of the sudden shift of feel- 
ing in the crowd, and anxious for the safety of Angelique, 
seized the bridle^ of her horse to drag her forcibly out of 
the press, telling her that her words had been heard, and 
in another instant the whole mob would turn its fury upon 
her, and in order to save her life she must fly. 

“ I will not fly, De Pean ! You may fly yourself, foi 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE;^ ETC, 6i^ 

you are a coward ! They are going to kill Le Gardeur, and 
I will not forsake him ! They shall kill me first ! ’’ 

But you must ! You shall fly ! Hark ! Le Gardeui 
is safe for the present. Wheel your horse round, and you 
will see him standing up yonder quite safe ! The crowd 
rather believe it was I who killed the Bourgeois, and not 
Le Gardeur ! I have a soul and body to be saved as well 
as he ! ” 

‘‘ Curse you, soul and body, De Pean ! You made me 
do it. You put those hellish words in my mouth ! I will 
not go until I see Le Gardeur safe ! ” 

Angelique endeavored frantically to approach Le Gard- 
eur and could not, but as she looked over the surging 
heads of the people she could see Le Gardeur standing up, 
surrounded by a ring of agitated men who did not appear, 
however,to threaten him with any injury — nay, looked at him 
more with wonder and pity than with menace of injury. 

He was a prisoner, but Angelique did not know it or she 
would not have left him. As it was, urged by the most 
vehement objurgations of De Pean, and seeing a portion of 
the crowd turning their furious looks towards herself 
as she sat upon her horse, unable either to go or stay, De 
Pean suddenly seized her rein and spurring his own horse, 
dragged her furiously in spite of herself out of the tumult. 
They rode headlong to the Casernes of the Regiment of 
Bearn, where they took refuge for the moment from the 
execrations of the populace. 

The hapless Le Gardeur became suddenly sobered and 
conscious of the enormity of his act. He called madly for 
death from the raging crowd. He held out his hands for 
chains to bind a murderer, as he called himself ! But no 
one would strike him or offer to bind him. The wrath of 
the people was so mingled with blank astonishment at his 
demeanor, his grief and his despair were so evidently 
genuine and so deep, that many said he was mad, and 
more an object of pity than of punishment. 

At his own reiterated command he was given over to 
the hands of some soldiers, and led off, followed by a great 
crowd of people, to the main guard of the Castle of 
St. Louis, where he was left a prisoner, while another 
portion of the multitude gathered about the scene of the 
tragedy, surrounded the body of the Bourgeois, which was 
lifted off the ground and borne aloft on men’s, should- 


6i6 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


ers, followed by wild cries and lamentations, to the house 
of the Golden Dog, — the house which he had left but 
half an hour before, full of life, vigor and humanity, look- 
ing before and after as a strong man looks who has done 
his duty, and who feels still able to take the world 
upon his shoulders and carry it — if need were. 

The sad procession moved slowly on amid the pressing 
agitated crowd, which asked and answered a hundred 
eager questions in a breath. The two poor Recollet 
brothers, Daniel and Ambrose, walked side by side before 
the bleeding corpse of their friend, and stifled their emotions 
by singing in a broken voice, that few heard but themselves, 
the words of the solitary hymn of St. Francis d’ Assisi, the 
founder of their order : — 

“ Praised be the Lord ! by our sweet sister, Death ! 

From whom no man escai5es, howe’er he try — 

Woe to all those who yield their parting breath 
In mortal sin ! But blessed those who die, 

Doing thy will in that decisive hour ! 

The second death o’er such shall have no power ! 

Praise, blessing and thanksgiving to my Lord, 

For all He gives and takes be He adored ! ” 

Dame Rochelle heard the approaching noise and tumult. 
She looked out of the window and could see the edge 
of the crowd in the market place tossing to and fro, 
like breakers upon a rocky shore. The people in the 
streets were hurrying towards the market. Swarms of 
men employed in the piagazines of the Bourgeois were 
running out of the edifice towards the same spot. 

The dame divined at once that something had happened 
to her master. She uttered a fervent prayer for his safety. 
The noise grew greater, and as she reached out of the 
window to demand of passers, by what was the matter, 
a voice shouted up that the Bourgeois was dead ! that 
he had been killed by the Grand Company, and they were 
bringing him home ! 

The voice passed on, and no one but God heeded 
the long wail of grief that rose from the good dame as she 
fell upon her knees in the doorway, unable to proceed 
further. She preserved her consciousness, however. 

The crowd now swarmed in the streets about the doors 
of the house. Presently were heard the shuffling steps of 
a number of men in the great hall, bearing the body 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE,'’ ETC. 617 

of the Bourgeois into the large room, where the sunshine 
was playing ao gloriously. 

The crowd, impelled by a feeling of reverence, stood 
back ; only a few ventured to come into the house. 

The rough hahitans who brought him in laid him upon 
a couch and gazed for some moments in silent awe upon 
the noble features so pale and placid which now lay 
motionless before them. 

Here was a man fit to rule an empire, and who did rule 
the half of New France ! who was no more now, save 
in the love and gratitude of the people, than the poorest 
piece of human clay in the potter’s field ! The great 
leveller had passed his rule over him as he passes it 
over every one of us. The dead lion was less now 
than the living dog, and the Golden Dog itself was 
henceforth only a memory, and an epitaph forever of 
the tragedy of this eventful day ! 

‘‘ O my master ! My good noble master ! ” exclaimed 
Dame Rochelle, as she roused herself up and rushed 
to the chamber of the dead. ‘‘ Your implacable enemies 
have killed you at last ! I knew it ! O ! I knew that 
your precious life would one day pay the penalty of your 
truth and justice ! And Pierre ! O where is he on this day 
of all days of grief and sorrow ? ” 

She wrung her hands at the thought of Pierre’s absence 
to-day, and what a welcome home awaited him ! 

The noise and tumult in the street continued to 
increase. The friends of the Bourgeois poured into the 
house, among them the Governor and La Come St. Luc, 
who came with anxious looks and hasty steps to inquire 
into the details of the murder. / 

The Governor, after a short consultation with La Come 
St. Luc, who happened to be at the castle, fearing a riot 
and an attack upon the magazines of the Grand Com- 
pany, ordered the troops immediately under arms, and 
despatched strong detachments under the command of 
careful and trusty officers to the palace of the Intendant, 
and the great warehouse of the Friponne, and also into the 
market place, and to the residence of the Lady de Tilly, 
not knowing in what direction the fury of the populace 
might direct itself. 

The orders were carried out in a few minutes without 
noise or confusion. The Count, with La Come St. Luc, 


6i8 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


whose countenance bore a concentration of sorrow and 
anger wonderful to see, hastened down to the house of 
mourning. Claude Beauharnois and Rigaud de Vaudreuil 
followed hastily after them. They pushed through the 
crowd that filled the Rue Buade, and the people took off 
their hats, while the air resounded with denunciations of 
the Friponne, and appeals for vengeance upon the assassin 
of the Bourgeois. 

The Governor and his companions were moved to tears 
at the sight of their murdered friend lying in his 
bloody vesture, which was open to enable the worthy 
Doctor Gauthier, who had run in all haste, to examine the 
still oozing wound. The Recollet Brother Daniel still 
knelt in silent prayer at his feet, while Dame Rochelle, 
with trembling hands, arranged the drapery decently 
over her dead master, repeating to herself : — . 

‘‘It is the end of trouble ! and God has mercifully taken 
him away before he empties the vials of his wrath 
upon this New France, and gives it up for a possession to 
our enemies! What says the prophet.^ ‘The righteous 
perisheth and no man layeth it to heart, and merciful men 
are taken away, none considering that the righteous 
are taken away from the evil to come I ’ 

The very heart of La Come St. Luc seemed bursting 
in his bosom, and he choked ‘with agoiiy as he placed his 
hand upon the forehead of his friend, and reflected that 
the good Bourgeois had fallen by the sword of his godson, 
the old man’s pride — Le Gardeur de Repentigny ! 

“ Had death come to him on the broad common road 
of mortality — had he died like a soldier on the battle field,” 
exclaimed La Come, “ I would have had no spite at Fate. 
But to be stabbed in the midst of his good deeds of alms, 
and by the hand of one whom he loved. Yes 1 by God I 
I will say it ! and by one who loved him ! Oh 1 it is 
terrible, Count 1 Terrible and shameful to me as if it had 
been the deed of my own son 1 ” 

“ La Come ! I feel with you the grief and shame of such 
a tragedy! But there is a fearful mystery in this thing 
which we cannot yet unravel. They say the Cheva- 
lier de Pean dropped an expression that sounded like 
a plot ! I cannot think Le Gardeur de Repentigny would 
deliberately and with forethought have killed the Bour 
geois ! 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIEr ETC. 619 

On my life he never would ! He respected the Bour 
geois, nay loved him, for the sake of Pierre Philibert 
as well for his own sake ! Terrible as is his crime he never 
committed it out of malice aforethought ! He has been 
himself the victim of some hellish plot— for a plot 
there has been ! This has been no chance medley, Count ! ” 
exclaimed La Come St. Luc impetuously. 

^‘It looks like chance medley, but I suspect more than 
appears on the surface,” replied the Governor. “ The 
removal of the Bourgeois decapitates the party of the 
Honnetes Gens — does it not ? ^ 

“ Gospel is not more true ! The Bourgeois was the only 
merchant in New France capable of meeting their mon- 
opoly and fighting them with their own weapons. Bigot 
and the Grand Company will have everything their own 
way now.” 

“Besides there was the old feud of the Golden Dog,” 
continued the Governor, “ Bigot took its allusion to the 
Cardinal as a personal insult to himself. Did he not. La 
Corhe ? ” 

“ Yes ; and Bigot knew he deserved it equally with His 
Eminence, whose arch-tool he had been,” replied La Come. 
“By God ! I believe Bigot has been at the bottom of this 
plot. It would be worthy of his craft.” 

“ These are points to be considered. La Come. But 
such is the secresy of these men’s councils that I doubt 
we may suspect more than we shall ever be able to 
prove.” The Governor looked much agitated. 

“ What amazes me. Count, is not that the thhig should 
be done, but that Le Gardeur should have done it ! ” 
exclaimed La Come, with a puzzled expression. 

“ That is the strangest circumstance of all. La Come,” 
observed the Governor. “ The same thought has stmck 
me. But he was mad with wine, they say ; and men who 
upset their reason do not seldom reverse their conduct 
towards their friends ; they are often cruelest to those 
whom they love best.” 

“ I will not believe but that he was made drunk pur- 
posely to commit this crime ! ” exclaimed La Come, strik- 
ing his hand upon his thigh. “ La Gardeur in his senses 
would have lost his right hand sooner than have raised it 
against the Bourgeois ! ” 

, “ I feel sure of it ; his friendship for Pierre Philiberb 


620 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


to whom he owed his life, was something rarely seen 
now-a-days,’’ remarked the Count. 

La Come felt a relief in bearing testimony in favor of 
Le Gardeur. ‘‘ They loved one another like brothers,’’ said 
he, and more than brothers. Bigot had corrupted the 
habits, but could never soil the heart or lessen the love of 
Le Gardeur for Pierre Philibert, or his respect for the 
Bourgeois, his father.” 

It is a mystery. La Come ; I cannot fathom it. But 
there is one more danger to guard against,” said the 
Governor meditatively, and we have sorrow enough 
already among our friends.” 

What is that. Count ? ” La Corne stood up erect as if 
in mental defiance of a new danger. 

Pierre Philibert will return home to-night,” replied 
the Governor ; “ he carries the sharpest sword in New 
France. A duel between him and Le Gardeur would crown 
the machinations of the secret plotters in this murder. He 
will certainly avenge his father’s death, even upon Le 
Gardeur.” 

La Corne St. Luc started at this suggestion, but pre- 
sently shook his head. ‘‘ My life upon it ! ” said he, “ Le 
Gardeur would stand up to receive the sword of Pierre 
through his heart, but he would never fight him ! Besides, 
the unhappy boy is a prisoner.” 

‘‘ We will care well for him and keep him safe. He 
shall have absolute justice. La Corne, but no favor.” 

An officer entered the room to report to the Governor 
that the troops had reached their assigned posts and that 
there was no symptom of rioting among the people in any 
quarter of the city. 

The Governor was greatly relieved by these tidings. 
“ Now, La Corne,” said he, “ we have done what is needful 
for the public. I can spare you, for I know where your 
heart yearns most to go, to offer the consolations of a true 
friend.” 

“ Alas, yes,” replied La Corne sadly. Men weep 
tears of water, but women tears of blood ! What is our 
hardest grief compared with the overwhelming sorrow and 
desolation that will pass over my poor god-daughter, 
Amelie de Repentigny and the noble Lady de Tilly at this 
doleful news.^” 

Go comfort them, La Corne, and the angel of conso- 


BLESSED THEY WHO DIE;^ ETC, 621 

lation go with you ! ” the Governor shook him by the hand 
and wished him God-speed. 

,La Come St. Luc instantly left the house. The crowd 
uncovered and made way for him as they would have done 
for the Governor himself, as with hasty strides he passed 
up the Rue du Fort and on towards the Cape where stood 
the mansion of the Lady de Tilly. 

O Rigaud, what a day of sorrow this is ! ” exclaimed 
the Governor to De Vaudreuil, on their return to the Castle 
of St. Louis; “What a bloody and disgraceful event to 
record in the annals of New France ! ” 

“ I would give half I have in the world could it be for- 
ever blotted out ! ’’ replied De Vaudreuil. “ Your friend, 
Herr Kalm, has left us, fortunately, before he could 
record in his book, for all Europe to read, that men are 
murdered in New France to sate the vengeance of a Royal 
Intendant and fill the purses of the greatest company of 
thieves that ever plundered a nation.” 

“ Hark, Rigaud ! do not say such things,” interrupted 
the Governor, “ I trust it is not so bad as that ; but it shall 
be seen into, if I remain Governor of New France! The 
blood of the noble Bourgeois shall be required at the hands 
of all concerned in his assassination. The blame of it 
shall not rest wholly upon that unhappy Le Gardeur. We 
will trace it up to its very origin and fountain head.” 

“ Right, Count ! You are true as steel 1 But mark 
me 1 if you begin to trace this assassination up to its origin 
and fountain head, your letters of recall will be despatched 
by the first ship that leaves France after the news reaches 
Versailles 1 ” Rigaud looked fixedly at the Count as he 
said this. 

“ It may be so, Rigaud,” replied the Count, sadly ; 
“ strange things take place under the regime of the strange 
women who now rule the Court. Nevertheless, while I am 
here my whole duty shall be done. In this matter justice 
shall be meted out with a firm and impartial hand, no 
matter who shall be incriminated.” 

The Count de la Galissoniere at once summoned a 
number of his most trusted and most sagacious councillors 
together — the Intendant was notone of those summoned — • 
to consider what steps it behooved them to take to provide 
for the public safety and to ensure the ends of justice in 
this lamentable tragedy. 


622 


THE CHIEN HOE. 


CHAPTER LV. 

EVIL NEWS RIDES POST, 

T he sunbeams never shone more golden through the 
casement of a lady’s bower than on that same morn- 
ing of St. Martin’s, through the window of the chamber of 
Amelie de Repentigny, as she sat in the midst of a group 
of young ladies holding ’ earnest council over the dresses 
and adornments of herself and companions who were to be 
her bridesmaids, on her marriage with Pierre Philibert. 

Amelie had risen from pleasant dreams. The tender 
flush of yesterday’s walk on the banks of the Lairet lin- 
gered on her cheek all night long, like the rosy tint of a 
midsummer’s sunset. The loving words of Pierre floated 
through her memory like a strain of divine music, with the 
sweet accompaniment of her own modest confessions of 
love, which she had so frankly expressed. 

How full and ample seemed all that Pierre had said to 
her ! His words had been glorified in her fervid imagina- 
tion, while she reflected tremulousy over her own expres- 
sions, lest they might have seemed either too forward or 
too cold. 

A girl who has yielded her heart to. a lover finds it not 
easy to satisfy herself, — If too fond, she fears he may de- 
spise her ; if too reserved, he may doubt her affection. But 
when the words of betrothal have been spoken and its 
precious pledges given, a true woman is like Sarah in the 
presence of Abraham, bowing herself, and in spirit calling 
him lord. She exalts him in her fancy to a height of wor- 
thiness that justifies the worship of her entire being; to 
love, honor and obey, seems to her less a duty than a 
passionate delight. 

Amelie’s spirits over-flowed with happiness. She had 
dreamed last night of Elysian fields, but even the heavenly 
landscape had resembled the sloping shores of the Lake 
de Tilly or the winding banks of the pastoral Lairet. 

Clothed in shining robes, with a garland of flowers 
upon his head, which she had placed there as a sign that 
he was king of her heart and the ruler of her destiny, Pierre 


EVIL NEWS RIDES POST 


623 

had seemed to lead her by the hand, while choirs of happy 
angels sang their marriage-song and blessed their union 
forever and ever. 

Amelie’s chamber was vocal with gaiety and laughter ; 
for with her to-day were the chosen friends and life-long 
companions who had ever shared her love and confidence. 

These were, Hortense Beauharnois, happy also in her 
recent betrothal to Jumonville de Villiers, Heloise de 
Lotbiniere, so tenderly attached to Amelie and whom of 
all her friends Amelie wanted most to call by the name of 
sister; Agathe the fair daughter of La Come St. Luc, so 
like her father in looks and spirit, and Amelie’s cousin. 
Marguerite de Repentigny, the reflection of herself in fea- 
ture and manners. 

There was rich material in that chamber for the con- 
versation of such a group of happy girls. The bridal 
trousseau was spread out before them, and upon chairs and 
couches lay dresses of marvellous fabric and beauty, — 
muslins and shawls of India and Cashmere, and the finest 
products of the looms of France and Holland. It was a 
trousseau fit for a queen, and an evidence at once of the 
wealth of the Lady de Tilly and of her unbounded love for 
her niece, Amelie. The gifts of Pierre were not mingled 
with the rest, nor as yet had they been shown to her 
bridesmaids — Amelie kept them for a pretty surprise upon 
another day. 

Upon the table stood a golden casket of Venetian work- 
manship — the carvings of which represented the marriage at 
Cana in Galilee. It was stored with priceless jewels which 
dazzled the sight and presented a constellation of starry 
gems, the like of which had never been seen in the New 
World. It was the gift of the Bourgeois Philibert who gave 
this splendid token of his affection and utter contentment 
with Amelie, as the bride of his son and heir. 

Amelie regarded these things with the natural pleasure 
of a pure and noble girl. She was a true woman and loved 
beautiful things simply because of their beauty, but she 
valued their richness only, because it was a proof of the 
love of those whom she most valued and most delighted to 
please. 

Without that ennobling sentiment all the precious gifts 
in the world, would have seemed to her no better than 
dross, and fairy glamour of sticks and straw. 


624 


THE CHIEN nOR. 


She was supremely happy, and gay beyond her wont, as 
she sat this morning amidst her fair companions, dressed in 
a white robe soft and pure as a fresh snow wreath. Her 
black tresses drooped carelessly over her neck. Her 
wonderful eyes dark with excessive light, shot proud and 
happy glances at her companions \ but their tenderest 
expression was the inward look she cast upon the image of 
Pierre in her own heart. Feelings long suppressed were now 
revealed, with shyness indeed, but no shame, and all the 
world might know if it liked that Amelie had given the rich 
treasure of her love to Pierre Philibert. 

She wore that day for her only ornament a golden cross, 
the birthday gift of Pierre, and a brooch, the gift of Le Gar- 
deur. On her finger was a ring, the pledge of her betrothal, 
which she never afterwards removed for a moment, in 
all her subsequent life. 

These five girls equal in age and almost in beauty, so 
like, yet so dissimilar had all been companions at school, 
and formed together the fairest circle of society in the 
Capital. 

In the ease of frankest intimacy they met in the chamber 
of their friend, sitting on chairs or stools or kneeling upon 
the floor as chance or fancy dictated, while they settled the 
details of their wedding garments, with as much seriousness 
as the diplomats at Aix-La-Chapelle had recently settled 
the great treaty of peace for Europe. And why not 

Woman’s kingdom comes closer to the human heart 
than a king’s. Her accession to her throne, is to her, and 
to the man she marries an event of more lasting importance 
than any other revolution in mundane things. It is her 
prerogative to govern the household where a man lays up 
the riches of his life. She is Queen there wearing the 
crown, and no true man ever disputes her right of ruling 
her kingdom jure divino. 

Hortense Beauharnois knelt in graceful abandon at the 
feet of Amelie, resting her arms upon the lap of her friend, 
holding her by the hand as she twisted the betrothal ring 
round and round her slender finger. 

“ We little thought of this in the Convent, at least you 
did not, Amelie ! ” said she with an arch look, laying her 
finger, on which was a ring given her by Jumonville de 
Villiers, by the side of Amelie’s finger, as if to compare 
them. 


EVIL NEWS RIDES POST 


625 

“ If is a charming ring yours, Hortense ! and one which 
any woman might be proud to wear,’’ said Amelie in a low 
voice as she caressed the finger of her friend. 

‘‘ I am proud of it ! ” replied Hortense in a whisper. 
Except your Pierre I know no gentleman in the world like 
Jumonville.” 

You think he resembles Pierre ? ” said Amdie. 

In his noble ways he does if not in his looks. He has 
not Pierre’s stature nor steel blue Norman eyes ; but he is as 
handsome in his own way, and as brave and generous. 
He is, I admit proudly, dark complexioned to a fault.” 

‘‘ What fault Hortense ! ” asked Amelie, pressing her 
hand and smiling in sympathy with her friend. 

“ Na}^, he has no fault, unless loving me so much be one ! 
Would I were more worthy of him ! but I will try, to be, a 
good wife to Jumonville. I am sure I shall be a loving 
one ! You too are proud and happy to-day, Amelie! ” 

“Yes I almost tremble at it” replied Amelie gravely! 
“ I am so very happy darling, that I almost fear it may be 
the foreunner of some misfortune. But Pierre comes home to 
night not to go away again without me ; do you understand ? 
And Le Gardeur has written me the kindest letter ! My 
brother will yet be his own noble self again ! O Hortense ! 
you cannot comprehend the happiness that thought brings 
me ! ” 

“Yes I can imagine it, were Claude and not Le Gar- 
deur the returning prodigal ! Dear Le Gardeur ! Shall I own 
to you Amelie.? It was fortunate that Jumonville returned 
when he did, or I know not what might have happened to 
me ! It might have been my lot to become the rival of 
Heloise, and like her be triumphed over by Angelique !” 

“ Fortunately you escaped ! ” whispered Amelie. “ Poor 
Heloise ! she would have been comforted somewhat had 
you been her rival instead of Angelique, for she loves Le 
Gardeur so unselfishly that she would rejoice in his 
happiness even at the hand of another.” 

“ Alas ! Poor me ! I could not boast such angelic 
resignation. It is wicked to confess it Amelie! But if 
Jumonville would not have let me be the cause of his 
happiness, I fear I should not have liked to hear of another 
making him happy ! Is not that very selfish and very 
wicked ? though it is very natural,” said Hortense with 
honest emphasis. 


4-0 


626 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ Ah ! you do not know yourself ! Hortense ! you are 
better than that although I fear most women would do as 
you say/’ replied Amelie caressing her hand. 

“Well, never mind, you and I are fortunate, Amelie! 
we shall never be put to the test I Pierre Philibert, though 
the pattern of courtesy to our sex, has never given a second 
look at any girl in the city since he saw you I ” 

“ And Jumonville ? ” asked Amalie archl)^ 

“01 he is a gallant of the first water 1 He admires all 
ladies so generally and only one so particularly that I 
have no room for jealousy. But I should die, Amelie, 
were he unfaithful ! ’’ 

“ To you he could not be, darling, nor I think to any 
one who trusted in him.” 

“You two engaged ones are so selfish in your happi- 
ness, that I protest against any more whisperings of mutual 
congratulations I ” exclaimed the lively Marguerite de Re- 
pentigny, who sat in the midst of a foaming sea of silks and 
muslins, veils and orange blossoms, eagerly discussing with 
the bridesmaids the respective merits of each toilette. 

“ I wish,” interrupted the pretty Agathe La Come St. 
Luc, “ you would both get married and have done with it 1 
It is provoking to see you two so insufferably happy and we 
looking on and — .” 

“ Languishing ? Agathe 1 ” replied Hortense springing 
up and embracing her, “ I will be your bridesmaid, dear, 
when among all your admirers you can decide which you 
will take.” 

“ Thanks Hortense I I could not have a fairer one. 
But my prince has not arrived yet to claim his bride. My 
husband shall be a king in my eyes, even were he a beggar 
in the eyes of others. But if not a king he shall be an 
officer, for I shall never marry out of the army 1 ” 

“You remember our school-girl play,” — continued 
Agathe archly — 

Je voudrais bien me marier ! 

Mais j’ai grand peur de me tromper — ‘ 

Je voudrais bien d’un ofHcier ! 

Je marcherais a pas carres — 

' Dans ma jolie chambrette ! 

Agathe holding up her pretty chin, and fluttering her 
dress as she sang this merry doggrel, rnarched with a 
mock military step to and fro across the floor, wearing a 


EVIL NEIVS RIDES POST, 


627 

garland of orange blossoms, and a veil upon her head, and 
with such an air of mimicry, taking off, first Amelie and 
then Hortense, that the whole bevy of girls laughed and 
screamed with delight, while Agathe continued her promen- 
ade singing the drollest impromptus her wit suggested. 

The sun of St. Martin shone gloriously through the 
casement, shedding an aureole of golden light over the 
group of fair girls. A stream of slanting rays shot into 
the little oratory so that it looked to the eye of Amelie like 
the ladder of heaven, where the patriarch saw angels 
ascending and descending upon it. 

As she gazed at the singular appearance, she recited a 
silent prayer of thanks to God for her happiness — while 
Heloise in a still more spiritual mood, laid her hand upon 
the shoulder of Amelie, and also watched the wonderful 
play of light flaming round the cross, and thinking tlioughts 
she had never given utterance to except in her own secret 
musings. 

The girls were startled in the midst of^their glee by the 
sudden dashing past of a horseman, who rode in a cloud of 
dust, followed by a wild strange cry, as of many people 
shouting together in lamentation and anger. 

Amelie and Heloise looked at each other with a strange 
feeling, but sat still, while the rest rushed to the balcony 
where they leaned eagerly over it to catch sight of the 
passing horseman, and discover the meaning of the loud 
and still repeated cry. 

The rider had disappeared round the angle of the Cape, 
but the cry from the city waxed still louder, as if more and 
more voices joined in it. 

Presently men on horseback and on foot, were seen, 
hurrying towards the Castle of St. Louis, and one or two 
shot up the long slope of the Place d’Armes, galloping 
towards the mansion of the Lady de Tilly, talking and 
gesticulating in the wildest manner. 

In God’s name, what is the matter. Monsieur La 
Force ? ” exclaimed Hortense as that gentleman rode 
furiously up and checked his horse violently at the sight 
of the ladies upon the balcony. 

Hortense repeated her question. La Force took off his 
hat and looked up puzzled and distressed, ‘‘ Is the Lady 
de Tilly at home } ” inquired he eagerly. 

“Not just now, she has gone out, but what is the 


628 


THE CHIEH UOR. 


matter in heaven^s name ? ’’ repeated she, as another wild 
cry came up from the city. 

Is Madamoiselle Amelie home ? ’’ again asked La 
Force with agitated voice. 

‘‘ She is liome^d, Heavens ! have you some bad news to 
tell her, or the Lady de Tilly ? breathlessly inquired 
Hortense. 

“ Bad news for both of them ! for all of us ! Hortense ! 
but I will not be the bearer of such terrible tidings — • 
others are following me, ask them } O, Hortense ! prepare 
poor Amelie for the worst news that ever came to her.’’ 

The Sieur La Force would not wait to be further 
questioned — He rode off furiously. 

The bridesmaids all turned pale with affright at these 
ominous words, and stood looking at each other and asking 
what they could mean ? 

Amelie and Heloise caught some of the conversation 
between Hortense and La Force. They sprang up and ran 
to the balcony, just as two of the servants of the house 
came rushing up with open mouths, staring eyes, and 
trembling with excitement. They did not wait to be asked 
what was the matter, but as soon as they saw the ladies, 
they shouted out the terrible news— as the manner of their 
kind is, without a thought of the consequences, “ that Le 
Gardeur had just killed the Bourgeois Philibert in the 
Market place ! and was himself either killed ora prisoner ! 
and the people were going to burn the Friponne and hang 
the Intendant under the tablet of the Golden Dog, and all 
the city was going to be destroyed ! 

The servants having communicated this piece of wild 
intelligence, instantly rushed into the house, and repeated 
it to the household — filling the mansion in a few moments 
with shrieks and confusion. 

It was in vain, Hortense and Agathe La Come St. 
Luc, strove to withhold the terrible truth from Amelie — • 
Her friends endeavored with kindly force and eager ex- 
hortations to prevent her coming to the balcony, but she 
would not be stayed — In her excitement she had the 
strength of one of God’s angels. She had caught enough 
of the speech of the servants to gather up its sense into a 
connected whole, and in a moment of terrible enlightenment 
that came like a thunderbolt driven through her soul, she 
understood the whole significance of their tidings. 


EVIL NEWS RIDES POST. 629 

Her hapless brother maddened with disappointment, 
drink and desperation had killed the father of Pierre ! the 
father of her betrothed husband ! his own friend and hers, 
why or how, was a mystery of amazement. 

She saw at a glance all the ruin of ! Her brother a 
murderer — the Bourgeois a bleeding corpse 1 Pierre her 
lover and her pride lost — lost, to her forever ! The blood of 
his father rising up between them calling for vengeance 
upon Le Gardeur and invoking a curse upon the whole 
house of Repentigny. 

The heart of Amelie, but a few moments ago expanding 
with joy and overflowing with the tenderest emotions of a 
loving bride, suddenly collapsed and shrivelled like a leaf, 
in the fire of this unlooked-for catastrophe. 

She stared wildly and imploringly in the countenances 
of her trembling companions, as if for help, but no human 
help could avail her. She spake not, but uttering one 
long agonizing scream, fell senseless upon the bosom of 
Heloise de Lotbiniere — who herself nigh fainting, bore 
Amelie with the assistance of her friends to a couch where 
she lay unconscious of the tears and wailing that surround- 
ed her. 

In the absence of the Lady de Tilly, Marguerite de 
Repentigny, with the presence of mind so characteristic 
of her family, ordered the servants to their duties, and the 
doors to be shut against all visitors from the city, numbers 
of whom were hurrying up to the Cape, bearing the doleful 
tidings — and anxious to sympathize with their distress. 

Madame Couillard, Madame de Grandmaison and 
other neighbors near and far vainly knocked at the door 
of the mansion — Marguerite was inexorable. She would 
not have Amelie gazed upon or made a subject of comment, 
or of curiosity, or even sympathy to the idle gossips of the 
city. 

Marguerite with her weeping companions remained in 
the chamber of Amelie watching eagerly for some sign of 
returning consciousness, and assiduously administering 
such restoratives as were at hand. 

Their patience and tenderness were at last rewarded — 
Amelie gave a flutter of reviving life. Her dark eyes 
opened and stared wildly for a moment at her companions 
with a blank look, until they rested upon the veil and orange 
blossoms on the head of Agathe, who had put them on in 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


630 

such a merry mood and forgotten in the sudden catastrophe 
to take them off again. 

The sight of the bridal veil and wreath seemed to rouse 
Amelie to consciousness. The terrible news of the murder 
of the Bourgeois bv Le Gardeur, flashed upon her mind 
and she pressed her burning eyelids hard shut with her 
hands, as if not to see the hideous thought. 

Her companions wept, but Amelie found no relief in 
tears as she murmured the name of the Bourgeois, Le 
Gardeur and Pierre. 

They spoke softly to her in tones of tenderest sympathy ; 
but she scarcely heeded them, absorbed as she was in 
deepest despair, and still pressing her eyes shut, as if she 
had done with day and cared no more to see the bright 
sunshine that streamed through the lattice. The past, 
present and future of her whole life started up before her 
in terrible distinctness, and seemed concentrated in one 
present spot of mental anguish. 

Amelie came of an heroic race, stern to endure pain 
as to inflict it, capable of unshrinking fortitude and of 
desperate resolves. A few moments of terrible contem- 
plation decided her forever, changed the whole current of 
her life, and overthrew as with an earthquake, the gorgeous 
palace of her maiden hopes and long cherished anticipa- 
tions of love and happiness as the wife of Pierre Philibert ! 

She saw it all ! there was no room for hope ! no chance 
of averting the fatal doom that had fallen upon her ! Her 
life as she had long pictured it to her imagination, was 
done and ended ! Her projected marriage with Pierre. 
Philibert ? It was like sudden death ! In one moment 
the hand of God had transported her from the living to 
the dead world of woman’s love ! A terrible crime had 
been perpetrated, and she, innocent as she was, must bear 
the burden of punishment. She had but one object now 
to live for, to put on sackcloth and ashes and wear her 
knees out in prayer before God, imploring forgiveness and 
mercy upon her unhappy brother and expiate the righteous 
blood of the just man who had been slain by him. 

She rose hastily and stood up. Her face was beautiful 
as the face of a marble Niobe, but as pale, and as full of 
anguish. 

‘‘ My loving bridesmaids,” said she, it is now all 
over with poor Amelie de Repentigny ! tell Pierre,” and 


E VIL NE WS RIDES POST 63 1 

here she sobbed, almost choking in her grief, tell 
Pierre not to hate me for this blood that lies on the thresh- 
old of our house ! Tell him how truly and faithfully I was 
preparing to devote myself to his happiness as his bride 
and wife ; tell him how I loved him, '%nd I only forsake 
him because it is the inexorable decree of my sad fate ; 
not my will, but my cruel misfortune ! But I know his noble 
nature ; he will pity, not hate me. Tell him it will even 
rejoice me where I am going, to know that Pierre Phil- 
ibert still loves me. I cannot, dare not ask him to pardon 
Le Gardeur ! I dare not pardon him myself ! But I know 
Pierre will be just and merciful to my poor brother, even 
in this hour of doom ! ” 

‘‘ And now,” continued she, speaking with a terrible 
energy, Put away these bridal deceits ! they will never 
be worn by me ! I have a garb more becoming the bridal 
of death ; more fitting to wear by the sister of — O, God ! 
I was going to say, of a murderer ! ” 

Amelie, with a wild desperation, gathered up the gay 
robes and garlands, and threw them in a heap in the cor- 
ner of the chamber. ‘‘ My glory is departed ! ” said she, 
‘‘ O, Hortense, I am punished for the pride I took in 
them ! Yet it was not for myself, but for the sake of him, 
I took pride in them ! Bestow them I pray you upon some 
more happy girl, who is poor in fortune, but rich in love, 
who will wear them at her bridal, instead of the unhappy 
Amelie ! ” 

The group of girls beheld her, while their eyes were 
swimming with tears. “ I have long, long kept a bridal 
veil in my closet,” she went on, “ and knew not it was to 
be mine ! ” Opening a wardrobe, she took out a long 
black veil. It had belonged to her grand-aunt, the nun, 
Madelaine de Repentigny, and was kept as an heirloom in 
her family. 

“ This,” said she, “ shall be mine till death ! Embrace 
me, O, my sisters, my bridesmaids and companions ! I go 
now to the Ursulines to kneel at the door and crave ad- 
mittance to pass a life of penitence for Le Gardeur, and of 
prayer for my beloved Pierre.” 

“ O, Amelie, think what you do ! ” exclaimed Hortense 
Beauharnois, ‘‘ Be not hasty, take not a step that cannot be 
recalled. It will kill Pierre ! ” 

^ “ Alas ! I have killed him already! ” said she, but my 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


632 

mind is made up ! Dear Hortense, I love Pierre, but O, I 
could never look at his face again without shame, that 
would burn like guilt. I give myself, henceforth, to Christ, 
not for my own sake, but for his, and for my unhappy 
brother’s ! Do no^-'d^inder me, dear friends, and do not 
follow me ! May you all be happy in your happiness, and 
pray for poor Amelie whom fate has stricken so hard, and 
so cruelly in the very moment of her brightest hopes ! 
And now let me go — alone — and God bless you all ! Bid 
my aunt to come and see me,” added she, I cannot even 
wait her return.” 

The girls stood weeping around her, and kissed and 
embraced her over and over. They would not disobey 
her request to be allowed to go alone to the convent, but 
as she turned to depart, she was clasped round the neck 
by Heloise de Lotbiniere, exclaiming that she should not 
go alone ! that the light of the world had gone out for her 
as well as for Amelie, and she would go with her ! 

‘‘ But why, Heloise, would you go with me to the con- 
vent?” asked Amelie, sadly. She knew but too well, 
why. 

“ O, my cousin ! I too would pray for Le Gardeur ! I 
too — but no matter ! I will go with you, Amelie ! If the 
door of the Ursulines open for you, it shall open for 
Heloise de Lotbiniere also.” 

‘H have no right to say nay, Heloise, nor will I,” re- 
plied Amelie, embracing her, you are of my blood and 
lineage, and the lamp of Repentigny is always burning in 
the holy chapel to receive broken-hearted penitents like 
you and me ! ” 

“O, Heloise ! do not you also leave us ! Stay till to- 
morrow ! ” exclaimed the agitated girls, amazed at this 
new announcement. 

“ My mind is made up ; it has long been made up ! ” 
replied* Heloise, “ I only w^aited the marriage of Amelie, 
before consummating my resolution to enter the convent. 
I go now to comfort Amelie, as no other friend in the 
world can comfort her. We shall be more content in the 
midst of our sorrows to be together.” 

It was in vain to plead with or to dissuade them. 
Amelie and Heloise were inexorable, and eager to be gone. 
They again kissed their companions, with many tears 
bidding them a last farewell, and the two weeping girls, 


THE URSULINES. 


633 

hiding their heads under their veils, left the bright man- 
sion that was their home, and proceeded with hasty steps 
towards the convent of the Ursulines. 


CHAPTER LVI. 

THE URSULINES. 

C LOSELY veiled, acknowledging no one, looking at no 
one, and not themselves recognized by any, but clinging 
to each other for mutual support, Ame'lie and Heloise 
traversed swiftly the streets that led to the convent of the 
Ursulines. 

At the doors, and in the porches and galleries of the 
old-fashioned houses, women stood in groups, discussing 
eagerly the wild reports that were flying to and fro through 
the city, and looking up and down the streets for further 
news of the tragedy in the market-place. The male part 
of the population had run off and gathered in excited 
masses round the mansion of the Golden Dog, which was 
suddenly shut up, and long streamers of black crape were 
hanging at the door. 

Many were the inquisitive glances and eager whisper- 
ings of the goodwives and girls, as the two ladies, deeply 
veiled in black passed by with drooping heads and hand- 
kerchiefs pressed against their faces, while more than one 
quick ear caught the deep suppressed sobs that broke 
from their bosoms. No one ventured to address them 
however, although their appearance caused no little 
speculation as to who they were, and whither they were 
going. 

“ They look broken-hearted, poor things ! ” exclaimed 
good Madame Bissot to her next door neighbor in the 
Rue des Jardins, ‘‘ some friends of the Bourgeois, or per- 
haps they are making for the convent. They are high 
ladies, I warrant by their dress, and certainly sweeter fig- 
ures I never saw ; did you, Madame Hamel ? 


634 


THE CHIEH D'OR. 


‘‘ Never,” replied Madame Hamel, eagerly, “ I do won- 
der who they can be ? It is plain to see they are bound for 
the Ursulines. I have lived in the Rue des Jardins, maid 
and wife, thirty years, Madame Bissot, and I have never 
been mistaken in^^ihe appearance of a girl taking her 
broken heart to the convent to lay it upon the tomb of 
Mere Marie de I’lncarnation.” 

Madame Bisssot was at no loss for an explanation : — 

‘‘ That is because our sex is all feeling, Madame 
Hamel ! ” said she. “ I was all feeling, myself, when I was a 
girl. They say that the tomb of Mere Marie has a rare 
secret for consoling the troubles of the heart. But is it 
not queer, Madame Hamel, that whenever a girl loses her 
lover, she always wants to fly to the convent ! you remem- 
ber pretty Madelaine des Meloises, how she ran barefoot 
to the Ursulines, leaping out of bed at midnight, when 
news came of the death of that young officer to whom she 
was betrothed ! She has found consolation in the cloister, 
for you know how she sings like a nightingale ever since, 
as we all can hear any day at vespers, if we chose to listen 
— as I always do.” 

Yes, it is very queer,” replied Madame Hamel, ‘‘but 
my good man always says ; ‘ girl’s feelings, men’s failings, 
and love’s foolings keep life alive ! ’ Nothing can overtake 
a girl on the run from a disappointment, or to a wedding ! 
But a man who is jilted, never delays helping himself to a 
second cake, if he is at all hungry for matrimony.” 
Madame Hamel had been thrice married, and was there- 
fore an authority on the subject. 

“ Indeed, a man has little chance to escape a second 
cake now-a-days ! ” replied Madame Bissot, “ and it is well 
they can stand a first, second, and even third course of 
matrimony. This cruel war has left men as scarce as gold 
and as valuable ; while the women are plenty as hops and 
as cheap. How fortunate it is that peace has been made, 
for it began to be prophesied that the day was coming in 
New France when' seven women would take hold of one 
man, and wear their own clothes too, for the sake of being 
called by his name ; what a dreadful prospect ! Think of 
me with the seventh part of a man, Madame Hamel ! ” 

“ It is a sad reflection, Madame Bissot \ and me with 
my ten daughters upon my hands ! what to do with them 
in any way decent and respectable except make nuns of 


THE URSULINES. 


63s 

them, I do not know ! I ought to have been grandmother 
by this time ! Here am I, but seventeen years older than 
my eldest daughter ! I wish some of my girls would run 
away to the convent too, before they do worse. I see no 
chance of marrying them.” . 

‘‘ It is a bad prospect,” replied Madame Bissot, ‘‘ as I 
heard a gentleman of the castle — it was the Sieur Lemoine 
— remark the other day as I was going to church : ‘ The 
women,’ he said, ‘ would have fhe colony all to themselves, 
by-and-by, if the war continued, and we should have to 
fight the English with an army of Amazons,’ so he called 
them, which I take to be some strange tribe of savages. 
But look, Madame’ Hamel ! those two ladies are really 
crossing over to the convent. I knew I was not mistaken ! 
Who can they be ? ” 

Whether the legitimate curiosity of the good gossips of 
the Rue des Jardins was ever gratified on this point — the 
record sayeth not ; but Amelie and Heloi^e almost faint- 
ing under their sorrow, stood upon the broad stone step 
which formed the threshold that separated the world they 
were entering into, from the world they were leaving. 

The high gables and old belfry of the Monastery, stood 
bathed in sunlight. The figure of St. Joseph that domi- 
nated over the ancient portal, held out his arms and seem- 
ed to welcome the trembling fugitives into the house with 
a gesture of benediction. 

The sun darted a stream of rays into the deep *porch, 
illuminating its gloomy interior. The golden shafts shot 
through the open wicket, forming upon the stone floor 
within, a square of light emblazoned with the figure of a 
cross projected from the bars of the wicket. 

The two ladies paused upon the stone steps. Amelie 
clasped her arm round Heloise whom she pressed to her 
bosom and said : — Think before you knock at this door 
and cross the threshold for the last time, Heloise ! You 
must not do it for my sake, darling.” 

“ No, Amelie,” replied she sadly. It is not wholly foi 
your sake. Would I could say it were ! Alas ! If I re 
mained in the world, I could even now pity Le Gardeur, 
and follow him to the world’s end ; but it must not — cannot 
be. Do not seek to dissuade me, Amelie, for it is useless.” 

Your mind is made up then, to go in with me, my 
Heloise ! ” said Amelie, with a fond questioning look.” 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


636 

“ Fully, finally and for ever ! ” replied she with energy 
that left no room for doubt. I long ago resolved to ask 
the community to let me die with them. My object, dear 
sister, is like yours : to spend my life in prayers and sup- 
plications for Le^<5^rdeur, and be laid, when God calls me 
to his rest by the side of our noble Aunt Mere Madelaine de 
Repentigny, whose lamp still burns in the Chapel of the 
Saints, as if to light you and me to follow in her footsteps.” 

“ It is for Le Gardeur’s sake I too go,” replied Amelie, 
‘‘ to veil my face from the eyes of a world I am ashamed to 
see, and to expiate, if I can, the innocent blood that has been 
shed. But the sun shines very bright for those to whom 
its beams are still pleasant ! ” said she, looking round sadly, 
as if it were for the last time, she bade adieu to the sun, 
which she should never again behold under the free vault of 
heaven. 

Heloise turned slowly to the door of the convent. “Those 
golden rays that shine through the wicket,” said she, “ and 
form a cross upon the pavement within, as we often observed 
with school-girl admiration, are the only rays to gladden 
me now. I care no more for the light of the sun. I will live 
henceforth in the blessed light of the lamp of Repentigny. 
My mind is fixed and I will not leave you, Amelie. Where 
thou goest I will go, where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy 
people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” 

Amelie kissed her cousin tenderly. “ So be it, then, 
Heloise. Your heart is broken as well as mine ! We will 
pray together for Le Gardeur, beseeching God to pity and 
forgive.” 

Amelie knocked at the door twice before a sound of 
light footsteps was heard within. A veiled nun appeared 
at the little wicket and looked gravely for a moment upon 
the two postulantes for admission, repeating the formula 
usual on such occasions. 

“ What seek you, my sisters ?” 

“ To come in and find rest, good Mere des Seraphins,” 
replied Amelie, to w’hom the portiere was well known. 

“ We desire to leave the world and live henceforth with the 
community in the service and adoration of our blessed 
Lord, and to pray for the sins of others as well as our own.” 

“ It is a pious desire, and no one stands at the door and 
knocks but it is opened. Wait, my sisters, I will summon 
the Lady Superior to admit you.” 


THE URSULINES. 


637 

The nun disappeared for a few minutes. Her voice 
was heard again as she returned to the wicket : — “ The 
Lady Superior deputes to Mere Esther the privilege, on 
this occasion, of receiving the welcome postul antes of the 
house of Repentigny. vT' 

The portiere retired from the wicket. The heavy door 
swung noiselessly back, opening the way into a small ante- 
chamber, floored with smooth flags, and containing a table 
and a seat or two. On either side of the interior door of 
the ante-chamber was a turnstile or tourelle, which enabled 
the inmates within to receive anything from the outside 
world without being themselves seen. Amelie and Heloise 
passed through the inner door, which opened as of its own 
accord, as they approached it with trembling steps and 
troubled mien. 

A tall nun of commanding figure but benign aspect, 
received the two ladies with the utmost affection, as well 
known friends, but without the gush of empressement that 
would have marked their reception by a Lady of French 
origin. 

The venerable Mere Esther in look, temperament, as 
well as in birth, was English, although in language and 
ideas wholly French of the best type. She was gentle and 
sedate as became a woman of pure, cold and holy thoughts, 
who set no store by the world and never had done so. She 
had left it at the age of fifteen and lived the quiet life of 
an Ursuline for the space of thirty-four years. 

The news of the commotion in the city had been at 
once conveyed to the convent, and the Lady Superior 
doubting the discretion and calmness of Mere Gertrude, to 
communicate with the outer world on this day of excite- 
ment, had deputed Mere Esther to receive all visitors. 

Mere Esther wore a black robe sweeping the ground. It 
was bound at the waist by a leaj;hern girdle. A black veil 
fell on each side of the snowy fillet that covered her fore- 
head, and half covered the white wimple upon her neck 
and bosom. 

Her hair was invisible, being cut short and wholly hid- 
den in the ungainly fashion of the spouses of Christ, as if 
the heavenly Bridegroom loves not the beauty he creates 
in woman. 

The flowing locks that fall under the ruthless shears at 
the consecration of a nun, are never permitted to grow 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


638 

long again. Why ? It were hard to tell, unless to mortify 
the natural pleasure of a woman in the beauty of her hair, 
in which abides so much of her strength, as the strength of 
Samson abode in his. 

Esther Wheel^ight had in her childhood undergone a 
fate not uncommon in those hard days of war upon the 
English frontier. Her father’s house had been stormed 
and pillaged, and herself carried off a captive by a war party 
of Abenaquis. She had lived among the savages several 
years, until she was discovered and rescued by a Jesuit 
missionary, who brought her to the Castle of St. Louis, 
where her beauty, amiability and misfortunes enlisted so 
strongly the sympathies of the Governor, the first Marquis 
de Vaudreuil, that he adopted her as his own child, and 
sent her to the Ursulines to be educated with his own 
daughter. 

But the memories of her captivity were inaffaceable from 
the mind of the young English girl. Her friends in New 
England were, in time, apprised of her safety. They sent 
messengers to solicit her return home, but after a hard 
struggle between natural affection and her duty, as she 
conceived it to be, Esther chose to remain in New 
France, where, grateful for her deliverance from the Abena- 
quis, she resolved to consecrate her life to Christ and 
good works. In the language of the enthusiastic Jesuit 
who had rescued her from the savages : “ the fair Esther 
mounted the throne as the bride, not of a mighty Ahasuerus 
on earth, but of a mightier King of Kings in heaven.” 
She became an Ursuline, and in conjunction with the 
Venerable Superior, Mere Migeon de la Nativite, governed 
the community for a lifetime prolonged beyond the ordin- 
ary allotment of humanity. 

The beautiful portrait of her mother, sent to persuade 
the young girl to return home, haunted her night and day, 
and would not leave her. Its image only ceased to torment 
her when the facile hand of Mere des Anges, the great 
artiste of the convent, drew a halo of glory round the head, 
and transformed the worthy English mother into the fairest 
Madonna of the monastery — where it still remains the pre- 
cious adornment of a shrine in the convent chapel to this 
day. 

Mere Ste. Gertrude, in whose bosom all feminine curi- 
osity was not quite extinct, would have been content to 


THE VRSULINES. 


639 

remain at the wicket to look out as from a safe rock, at the 
tossing sea in the city, and bless her immunity from the 
dangers and troubles of the world. But Mere Esther was 
assistant superior, and the habit of obedience, which was a 
second nature to Mere Ste. Gertrude, catJsed her to rise at 
once and, with a humble salute, retire into the interior of 
the house to help the faithful Marthas, my aunts ^ as the 
sosurs converses were styled, in their multifarious labors in 
the convent kitchen. Mere Ste. Gertrude, as a penance 
for her tacit and momentary spirit of disobedience, spent 
the rest of the day at the self-imposed task of washing 
linen in the laundry, to the edification of the pious nuns, to 
whom she confessed her guilt and declared her penance. 

Mere Esther, at the first sight of the veil, thrown over 
the heads of Amelie and Heloise, and the agitation of both, 
knew at once that the time of these two girls, like that of 
many others, had come. Their arrival was a repetition of 
the old old story, of which her long experience had wit- 
nessed many instances. These two sorrowing girls sought 
refuge from the storms of the world. They had been 
wrecked and cast, half drowned, upon the rock of ages, as 
Mere Esther regarded it, where she herself had found a 
quiet and restful harbor for so many years. 

‘‘ Good mother ! ” exclaimed Amelie, throwing her 
arms round the nun, who folded her tenderly to her bosom, 
although her face remained calm and passionless. 

‘‘We are come at last ! Heloise and I wish to live and 
die in the monastery ! Good mother Esther, will you take 
us in ? ” 

“ Welcome both ! ” replied M^re Esther, kissing each 
of them on the forehead. “ The virgins who enter in with 
the bridegroom to the marriage are those whose lamps are 
burning ! The lamp of, Repentigny is never extinguished 
in the Chapel of Saints, nor is the door of the monastery 
ever shut against one of your house.” 

“ Thanks, good mother ! But we bring a heavy bur- 
then with us. No one but God can tell the weight and. the 
pain of it ! ” said Amelie, sadly. 

“ I know, Amelie, I know ; but what says our blessed 
Lord : ‘ Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.’ ” 

“ I seek not rest, good mother,” replied she, sadly 
“ but a place for penance, to melt heaven with prayers for 


640 


THE CHIEN n OR, 


the innocent blood that has been shed to-day, that it be not 
recorded for ever against my brodier. O, Mere Esther ! 
you know my brother, Le Gardeiir ; how generous and kind 
he was ! You have heard of the terrible occurrence in the 
market place ? 

‘‘ Yes, I have heard,’’ said the nun. ‘‘ Bad news reaches 
us ever soonest. It fills me with amazement that one so 
noble as your brother should have done so terrible a deed.” 

“ O, Mere Esther ! ” exclaimed Amelie eagerly, It was 
not Le Gardeur in his senses who did it. No, he never 
knowingly struck the blow that has killed me as v/ell as 
the good Bourgeois ! Alas ! he knew not what he did. But 
still he has done it, and my remaining time left on earth 
must be spent in sackcloth and ashes, beseeching God for 
pardon and mercy for him.” 

The community will join you in your prayers, Amdlie ! ” 
replied Mere. 

Esther stood wrapt in thought for a few moments. 
“ Heloise ! ” said she, addressing the fair cousin of Amelie, 
‘‘ I have long expected you in the monastery. You strug- 
gled hard for the world and its delights, but God’s hand 
was stronger than your purposes. When he calls, be it in 
the darkest night, happy is she who rises instantly to follow 
her Lord ! ” 

He has indeed called me, O mother ! and I desire only 
to become a faithful servant of His tabernacle forever. I 
pray, good Mere Esther, for your intercession with the Mere 
de la Nativite. The venerable Lady Superior used to say 
we were dowerless brides, we of the house of Lotbiniere !” 

“ But you shall not be dowerless, Heloise ! ” burst out 
Amelie. “ You shall enter the convent with as rich a dowry 
as ever accompanied an Ursuline.” 

“ No, Amelie ; if they will not accept me for myself, I 
will imitate my aunt, the admirable QO'eteuse^ who, being, 
like me, a dowerless postulante, begged from house to house 
throughout the city for the means to open to her the door 
of the monastery.” 

“ Heloise,” replied Mere Esther, ‘This is idle fear. We 
have waited for you, knowing that one day you would 
come, and you will be most welcome, dowered or not ! ” 

“You are ever kind. Mere Esther, but how could you 
know I should come to you ? ” asked Heloise, with a look 
of inquiry. 


THE URSULINES. 


641 


“ Alas ! Heloise, we know more of the world and its 
doings than is well for us ! Our monastery is like the ear 
of Dionysius, not a whisper in the city escapes it. O ! dar- 
ling, we knew you had failed in your one great desire upon 
earth, and that you would seek consol^tfe^ where it is only 
to be found, in the arms of your Lord.” 

“ It is true, mother ; I had but one desire upon earth, 
and it is crushed ; one little bird that nestled awhile in my 
bosom, and it has flown away ! The event of to-day has 
stricken me and Amelie alike, and we come together to 
wear out the stones of your pavement praying for the hap- 
less brother of Amelie.” 

“ And the object of Heloise’s faithful love ! ” replied the 
nun, with tender sympathy. O ! how could Le Garde ur 
de Repentigny refuse a heart like yours, Heloise, for 
the sake of that wild daughter of levity, Angelique des 
Meloises ? ” 

Mother, speak not of it ! He did not refuse my heart. 
He knew not I loved him, and Angelique is more beautiful 
and clever than I am or ever was.” 

“You are early learning the lesson of self-depreciation, 
Heloise, but you have what Angelique has not — a true 
heart and guileless lips. Ste. Angele will rejoice at two 
such follov/ers. But come, I will conduct you to the ven- 
erable Lady Superior, who is in the garden conversing with 
Grand Mere St. Pierre, and your old friend and mistress — 
Mere Ste. Helene.” 

The news of the tragedy in the market-place had been 
early carried to the convent by the ubiquitous Bonhomme 
Michael, who was out that day on one of his multifarious 
errands in the service of the community. 

The. news had passed quickly through the convent, 
agitating the usually quiet nuns, and causing the wildest 
commotion among the classes of girls who were assembled 
at their morning lessons in the great school-room. The 
windows were clustered with young comely heads, looking 
out in every direction, while nuns in alarm streamed from 
the long passages to the lawn, where sat the venerable 
Superior, Mere Migeon de la Nativite, under a broad ash 
tree, sacred to the convent by the memories that clustered 
round it. The Ste. Therese of Canada, Mere Marie de 
ITncarnation, for lack of a better roof, in the first days of 
her mission, used to gather round her under that tree, the 

41 


THE CHIEN D'OR, 


642 

wild Hurons as well as the young children of the colonists, 
to give them their first lessons in religion and letters. 

Mere Esther held up her finger warningly to the nuns 
not to speak, as she passed onward through the long 
corridors, dim witfe ^^narrow lights and guarded by images of 
saints, until she canie into an open square flagged with 
stones. In the walls of this court, a door opened upon the 
garden into which a few steps downwards conducted 
them. 

The garden of the monastery was spacious and kept with 
great care. The walks meandered round beds of flowers -and 
under the boughs of apple trees and by espaliers of ancient 
pears and plums. 

The fruit had long been gathered in and only a few 
yellow leaves hung upon the autumnal trees, but the grass 
was still green on the lawn, where stood the great ash -tree 
of Mere Marie de ITncarnation. The last hardy flowers of 
autumn lingered in this sheltered spot. 

In these secluded alleys the quiet recluses usually 
walked and meditated in peace, for here man’s disturbing 
voice was never heard. 

But to-day a cluster of agitated nuns gathered round 
the great ash-tree ; and here and there stood groups of black 
and white veils ; some were talking, while others knelt 
silently before the guardian of the house, the image of St. 
Joseph, which overlooked this spot, considered particularly 
sacred to prayer and meditation. 

The sight of Mere Esther, followed by the well, known 
figures of Amelie and Heloise, caused every head to turn 
with a look of recognition ; but the nuns were too well 
disciplined to express either surprise or curiosity in the 
presence of Mere Migeon, however much they felt of both. 
They stood apart at a sign from the Lady Superior, leaving 
her with a nun attendant on each side, to receive Mere 
Esther and her two companions. 


?'//£ LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 


643 


CHAPTER LVII,,*^ 

THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 

M ere Migeon de la Nativite was old in years but fresh 
in looks and alert in spirit: Her features were set in 
that peculiar expression of drooping eyelids and placid lips 
which belongs to the Convent, but she could look up and 
flash out on occasion with an air of command derived from 
high birth and a long exercise of authority as superior of 
the Ursulines, to which office the community had elected 
her as many trienniums as their rules permitted. 

Mere Migeon had been nearly half a century a nun, and 
felt as much pride as humility in the reflection. She liked 
power, which however she exercised wholly for the benefit 
of her subjects in the convent, and wore her veil with as 
much dignity as the Queen her crown. But if not exempt 
from some traces of human infirmity she made amends by 
devoting herself night and day to the spiritual and temporal 
welfare of the community who submitted to her government 
with extreme deference and unquestioning obedience. 

By her side stood two faithful and trusty members of 
the Conseil des Sages of the monastery, whom she never 
failed to consult in all emergencies. Although she always 
followed at last the wise suggestions and firm guiding hand 
of Mere Esther her coadjutrice in the government. 

One of these, a very aged nun, was the famous Grande, 
Mere Genevieve de St. Pierre, the worthy daughter of a 
remarkable man, the Seigneur de Boucherville, ennobled for 
his defense of Three Rivers against an army of Iroquois in 
1653. Grande-Mere St. Pierre counted nearly fourscore 
years of age at this time, threescore of which she had 
passed in the Cloister. She was still strong in mind and 
vigorous of body, as became her father’s daughter. And 
she reached a still greater age before she succumbed at last 
to the siege of nearly a century of years. 

At her feet, kneeling with elbow reposed on the lap of 
the venerable Grande-Mere St. Pierre, was a fair, delicate 
woman, Mere Charlotte de Muy de Ste. Helene, grand- 


6,44 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


daughter of the same stock of the Seigneur de BouchervilJe, 
and who if she had not inherited the strong bodily attri- 
butes of her race, had succeeded to the literaj-y talents of 
her grand sire, and shone among the nuns as the annalist 
of the Convent of the Colony. 

The histories m the Convent and of the Colony are so 
intermingled in those years of war and suffering that in the 
records of the ancient monastery they become almost as 
one. 

Mere Ste. Heleie had succeeded to many of the 
blessings poured out upon her race in the ‘‘ Adieux of 
Grand-Pere Boucher, whose last testament reminds one of 
dying Jacob’s patriarchal blessing of his twelve sons. She 
was a woman of keen intellect, remarkable power of 
observation and facile expression. Under her snow-white 
wimple beat as warm a heart for her country as ever 
stirred under the robe of a statesman or the gorget of a 
soldier. 

It is difficult in these days of quiet and security to 
realize the vivid emotions excited in the Convent by the 
bloody progress of the war with England, and by the 
hand-writing upon the wall which to some of the nuns 
already foreshadowed the downfall of New France. 

The annals of the Cloister, intended only to record the 
warfare of the Church and the triumphs of Faith, are 
intermingled, by the pen of Mere Ste. Helene, with vivid 
pictures of the war, and filled with proofs of the irre- 
pressible sympathies of the nuns, with their fathers, 
brothers and countrymen in arms against the English to 
preserve that New France so dear to them all. 

With what sorrow that old recital, the Vieux Rkcit^ 
records the defeats and disasters of the French arms ! with 
what joy and exultation their victories ! But through good 
report and bad, the graphic pen of Mere Ste. Helene went 
on to the end of her book and the end of her life. 

When the seven-years^ war broke but. Mere Ste. Helene 
was still the annalist of the old monastery. Her spirit 
watched eagerly from the dim cloister the movements of the 
armies of Montcalm on the frontiers. Her joyous pen 
records in strains of triumph the victories of Chouagen and 
of Carillon. But as the war progressed, she saw, like 
others, with dismay, that the Colony was abandoned by 
France to its own feeble and ever diminishing resources 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 64.5 

The circle of fire narrowed closer and closer round the 
Capital, and when at last Quebec itself was surrounded by 
the English, when Wolfe was pouring shot and shell for 
sixty days without intermission upon the devoted city, she 
knew that all was lost. The hearb^f 'f;he patriotic nun 
broke, and in the very hour when ths^ heroic Montcalm was 
lowered into his grave, which was a cavity made by the 
bursting of a bomb, in the Convent Chapel, Mere Ste. 
Helene breathed her last with the despairing, agonizing 
cry : “ Le pays esf d has / “ The Country is down ! ’’ The 

end of her life and of her history and of New France were 
finished at one fatal blow. Mere Migeon closed the eyes of 
the dead nun with a kiss, saying, Requiescat in pace I Mere 
Ste. Helene broke no vow in loving her native land ! 

But these sad events lay as yet in the womb of the 
future. The peace of Aix-La-Chapelle promised for the 
present an era of rest and recuperation to the wasted col- 
ony. The pen of Mere St. Helene had just recorded the 
emotions of joy and thankfulness which animated the com- 
munity upon the peace just concluded with the English. 

Mere Migeon had directed the two sorrowing ladies to 
be brought into the garden, where she would receive them 
under the old tree of Mere Marie de ITncarnation. 

She rose with affectionate eagerness as they entered, 
and embraced them one after the other, kissing them on 
the cheek, “ her little prodigals returning to the house of 
their father and mother ! after feeding on the husks of 
vanity in the gay world which was never made for them. 
We will kill the fatted calf in honor of your return, Amalie. 
Will we not. Mere Esther ” said the Lady Superior, ad- 
dressing Amdie rather than Heloise.. 

Not for me, reverend Mere ; you shall kill no fatted 
calf, real or symbolical, for me ! ” exclaimed Amelie. ‘‘ I 
come only to hide myself in your cloister, to submit my- 
self to your most austere discipline. I have given up all. O, 
my Mere ! I have given up all. None but God can know 
what I have given up forever ! 

“ You were to have married the son of the Bourgeois, 
were you not, Amelie ? ” asked the Superior, who, as the 
aunt of Varin, and by family ties connected with certain 
leading spirits of the Grand Company, had no liking for the 
Bourgeois Philibert ; her feelings, too, had been wrought 
upon by a recital of the sermon preached in the market- 
place that morning. 


646 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


O. speak not of it, good Mere ! I was betrothed to 
Pierre Philibert, and how am I requiting his love ? I 
should have been his wife but for this dreadful deed of 
my brother. The Convent is all that is left to me now.’^ 

‘‘You are a. bfd^ye girl,” said Grande-Mere St. Pierre, 
“ and worthy of your race. Such as you and Heloise are 
the salt that saves the world, and brings blessings upon 
the monastery,” 

Mere St. Helene had already recognized and embraced 
the two girls. “ I have recorded many dear names in our 
annals,” said she, “ but none with the gladness I shall 
have in recording yours. My pleasure is doubled because 
it is so unexpected. You sow in sorrow, but you shall 
reap in joy ! ” 

“I fear it may never be,” replied Amelie, “but I may 
at least find quiet and time for prayer. I know that ere 
long I shall find rest. The sword has passed through my 
soul also ! ” 

“Your aunt called herself the humble handmaid of 
Mary, and the lamp of Repentigny will burn all the brighter 
trimmed by a daughter of her noble house,” remarked 
Mere Migeon. 

“ By two daughters, good Mere ! Heloise is equally a 
daughter of our house,” replied Amelie with a touch of 
feeling. 

“ Was to have been her sister,” whispered a young 
novice in a white veil to another who had gradually ap- 
proached near enough to the old ash-tree to hear what was 
said. “ Heloise was to have been the bride of Le Gardeur 
de Repentigny ! 

“ No ! it was Angelique des Meloises for whom Le 
Gardeur ran wild, they say. He would have married her, 
but she jilted him ! ” replied another eagerly. 

“No! you are both wrong,” whispered a thirddittle 
novice ; “ it was Angelique was to have married the In- 
tendant.” 

■“ But she refused Le Gardeur all the same, as I know 
from the best authority. My sister was at the Intendant’s 
ball, and overheard part of a conversation between her 
and the Intendant,” interrupted a fourth little novice with 
sparkling black eyes and flushed cheek, “and they do say 
he has a wife all the time at the Chateau of Beaumanoir ! ” 

“No, she is not his wife! my aunt de Grandmaison 
heard something from Madame Varin ! ” replied another. 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 647 

And Madame Varin knows that the Intendant is 
not married/’ rejoined another novice, warmly. Their 
voices now mingled in sweet confusion, jangling like silver 
bells as they all talked together. 

Mere St. Charles, the grave mis^tres^'^of the novices, 
was never far away from her young charge. She listened 
quietly to the end of the conversation, and then confronted 
the little group with a reproving look, that caused them to 
blush redder than peonies at being caught indulging in such 
worldly conversation as about balls and marriages ! 

“ Come with me to the chapel, dear children,” said 
Mere St. Charles. “Wr must all repent our faults — you 
for permitting your thoughts to take delight in such vain 
worldly things — I for not keeping better watch over your 
youth and inexperience. Well that our severe Zelatrice, 
Mere St. Louis, did not overhear you, instead of your old 
indulgent Mere St. Charles.” 

‘‘We should have caught it in earnest then. But is it 
wrong to speak of marriage, good Mere } ” asked Marie 
Cureux — a girl somewhat older and bolder than the rest. 
“ My father and mother were married, therefore it cannot 
be wrong to marry, and the Church marries people, there- 
fore it cannot be sinful ! besides, we only whispered ! ” 

“ The sinful thought, Marie, is worse than the whispered 
word, and both the word and the thing are forbidden to 
us,” replied the nun. 

“We are sad sinners then,” remarked Demoiselle 
Bedard, a pretty cousin of Zoe Bedard, of Charlebourg — a 
wild young creature, who when she was at last broken in, 
became an exemplary nun, and in time the most bustling 
tante of the Convent kitchen, where she has left a recipe for 
making that famous potage du Convent^ which the old Bar- 
oness de Longueil said was the next thing to the sacra- 
ment, and used to send to the Convent for a bowl of it 
every day. 

“ Well, well, my children,” continued Mere St. Charles, 
“ never more speak, even in whispers, of gentlemen, or of 
marriages, except your own — when you become the brides 
of heaven.” 

“ Amen, Mere St. Charles, we will try ! ” said the hum- 
bled novices, who with drooping heads and hands clasped 
in a penitential manner, followed meekly their mistress, and 
proceeded to the Chapel to repent of their grievous fault. 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


648 

Mere Esther whispered a few words in the ear of the Supe- 
rior, bidding her concede every request of Amelie and 
Heloise, and returned to the wicket to answer some other 
hasty call from thq^troubled city. 

Messengers des^tched by Bonhomme Michael fol- 
lowed one another at short intervals, bringing to the Con- 
vent exact details of all that occurred in the streets, with 
the welcome tidings at last that the threatened outbreak 
had been averted by the prompt interposition of the Gov- 
ernor and troops. Comparative quietness again reigned 
in every quarter of the city. 

I.e Gardeur de Repent igny had voluntarily surrendered 
himself to the guard and given up his sword, being over- 
whelmed with remorse for his act. He had been placed— 
not in irons, as he demanded — but as a prisoner in the 
strong ward of the Castle of St. Louis. 

‘‘ I pray you. Reverend Mere Superior,’’ said Amelie, 
permit us now to go into the Chapel of Saints, to lay our 
hearts as did our kinswoman, Madelaine de Repentigny, 
at the feet of our Lady of Grand Pouvoir.” 

‘‘ Go my children, and our prayers shall go with you !” 
replied the Superior, ‘‘the lamp of Repentigny will burn 
brighter than ever to-night to welcome you.” 

The Chapel of Saints was held in reverence as the 
most sacred place in the Monastery. It contained the 
shrines and relics of many saints and martyrs. The de- 
vout nuns lavished upon it their choicest works of embroid- 
ery, painting and gilding in the arts of which they were 
eminent. The old Sacristaine was kneeling before the 
altar as Amelie and Heloise entered the Chapel. 

An image of the Virgin occupied a niche in the Chapel 
wall, and before it burned the silver lamp of Repentigny 
which had been hung there two generations before, in mem- 
ory of the miraculous call of Madelaine de Repentigny, 
and her victory over the world. 

The high-bred and beautiful Madelaine had been the 
delight and pride of Ville Marie. Stricken with grief by 
the death of a young officer to whom she was affianced, 
she retired to Quebec and knelt daily at the feet of our 
Lady of Pouvoir, beseeching her for a sign if it was her 
will, that she should become an Ursuline. 

The sign was given and Madelaine de Repentigny at 
once exchanged her gay robes for the coarse black gown 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY, 649 

and veil, and hung up this votive lamp before the Madonna, 
as a perpetual memorial of her miraculous call. 

Seven generations of men have passed away since then. 
The house of Repen tigny has disapp^red from their na- 
tive land. Their name and fame lie buHed in oblivion, 
except in that little chapel of the Saints, where their lamp 
still burns brightly as ever ! The pious nuns of St. Ursule, 
as the last custodians of the traditions of New France, 
preserve that sole memorial of the glories and misfortunes 
of the noble house, — the Lamp of Repentigny. 

Amelie and Heloise remained long in the Chapel of 
Saints — kneeling upon the hard floor as they prayed 
with tears and sobs for the soul of the Bourgeois and for 
God’s pity and forgiveness upon Le Gardeur. 

To Amelie’s woes was added the terrible consciousness 
that by this deed of her brother, Pierre Philibert was torn 
from her forever. She pictured to herself his grief, his 
love, his despair, perhaps his vengeance, and to add to all, 
she, his betrothed bride, had forsaken him and fled like 
a guilty thing without waiting to see whether he condemn- 
ed her ! 

An hour ago Amelie had been the envy and delight 
of her gay bridesmaids. Her heart had overflown like 
a fountain of wine, intoxicating all about her with joy 
at the hope of the speedy coming of her bridegroom. 
Suddenly the idols of her life had been shattered as 
by a thunder-bolt, and lay in fragments round her 
feet. 

The thought came upon her like the rush of angry 
wings — she knew that all was over between her and Pierre ! 
The cloister and the veil were all that were left to Amelie 
de Repentigny. 

‘‘ Heloise ! dearest sister ! ” exclaimed she, ‘‘ my con- 
science tells me I have done right, but my heart accuses 
me of wrong to Pierre ; of falseness to my plighted vows in 
forsaking him ; and yet not for heaven itself would I have 
forsaken Pierre ! Would that I were dead ! O what have 
I done, Heloise, to deserve such a chastisement as this 
from God ? ” 

Amelie threw her arms round the neck of Heloise, and 
leaning her head on her bosom wept long and without res- 
traint, for none saw them save God and the old Sacristaine, 
who observed without seeming to observe, as she knelt 


THE CHIEN D' OR. 


650 

silently, counting the beads of her rosary and repeating 
mechanically the formula of prayers attached to them. 

“ Mere Ste. Vierge ! pray for me ! continued Amelie 
suddenly apostroph^ng the old nun, who now regarded her 
fixedly from under me\ white fillet that covered her dark 
eyebrows, “ I am unworthy to pray for myself ! I plighted 
my troth before God and all the Saints to marry Pierre Phili- 
bert ! and to-day I forsake him in order to atone by a life 
of sacrifice for the innocent blood that lies upon the house 
of Repentigny Mere St. Vierge ! You are wise in the 
way of salvation. Tell me if my sin against Pierre be not 
greater than any prayer or penance can expiate } 

Mere St. Vierge looked at her pityingly and not without 
a trace of wonder, for the old Sacristaine had been so long 
under the veil, that the very name of human love sounded 
to her like a word of an unknown tongue. It called up no 
blessed association and woke no sympathy or only the most 
remote, in her cold saintly bosom. 

“ The sin would have been greater, Amelie,” said she 
quietly, without changing a muscle of her placid face, “ had 
you disobeyed the call of the heavenly voice. It seems to 
you harsh and cruel, but the divine rods have no efficacy 
unless they sting ! Fast and pray, and soon they will not 
sting at all, and you will rejoice in the stripes of your 
Lord ! In the cloister you will forget your earthly bride- 
groom, in the joys of your heavenly one. 

‘‘ Never, good Mere ! lean never forget Pierre Phili- 
bert ! I pledged my word to him and have broken it ! I 
must now bury in my heart out of human sight the love 
which I cannot reward with my hand ! ” 

The Sacristaine shook her head in disapproval. ‘‘ The 
fashions of this world pass away,” said she. It is hard 
to purge the affections of all earthly dross ; but a daughter 
of Ste. Angele must forsake father and mother, brothers 
and sisters, houses and lands, in a word, all the world for 
Christ’s sake, and to inherit eternal life ! For thirty years 1 
have fed this sacred lamp of your house, and now the 
heiress herself of Repentigny comes to take my place ! 
Laus Deo .^” 

O Mere I you do not know and cannot understand how 
great a sorrow has befallen Amelie ! ” exclaimed Heloise, 
heroically concealing the wound in her own bosom. 

“ I do know and I do understand ! ” replied the nun ; I 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 


^51 

was twenty when the Lord caught me in his net, and drew 
me from the waters of vanity and sin, but I set at defiance 
even my Lord, until he sent the angel of death to the house 
of him I loved, to subdue me by the Ir^^ of my sole earthly 
hope % 

Amelie was touched by the words of the nun, which 
seemed a reflection of her own thoughts. She raised her 
hand and kissed it. 

Mere Ste. Vierge ! ” said she, “ forgive me. Sorrow 
makes us selfish, and we think there are no troubles but 
our own ! Let me follow in your footsteps ! O, Mere, 
they say you subject yourself to the severest discipline of 
fasting, prayer and vigils ; teach me I pray you, teach me 
the hardest service in this house — I will perform it.” 

“ Amelie de Repentigny ! think before you offer to fol- 
low in my footsteps ! Can you fast all day and stand with 
naked feet all night upon the cold floor of the sanctuary ? 
Can you with bruised knees traverse the via crucis hour 
after hour from midnight until the bell rings for matins 't 
Can you begin the work of the day at the first hour and 
resolutely keep on till the last, and yet never feel that you 
are aught but an unprofitable servant of your Lord } ” 

The Sacristaine might have added, but refrained through 
fear of seeming proud of her self-humiliation, that she 
wore the coarsest sackcloth under her black robe, and it 
was even whispered among the nuns that her shoulders 
were scarred with the self-inflicted scourge. 

Alas ! Mere, if your venial sins call for such chastise- 
ment, what penance is not due from me for the sin of my 
brother^ which I desire to expiate by suffering ? ” replied 
Amelie, sadly. 

The Sacristaine let her hands fall in her lap, and looked 
at her admiringly. 

‘‘ Daughter,” said she, rejoice in your tribulation ! 
What says blessed St. Thomas ? ‘ Temptations and trials 

are profitable although they be troublesome and grievous, 
for in them we are humbled, purified and exalted.’ ” 

Alas, Mere ! ” replied Amelie, ‘‘ I am humbled beyond 
all humiliation, and wish only to hide myself from every 
mortal eye.” 

‘‘Amelie,” said the nun, impressively, “If thou carry 
thy cross willingly, it will carry thee, and bring thee to thy 
desired end ! ” 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


652 

“ I know it, Mere ! else I had not come to this place ! ’’ 

‘‘ Listen ! ’’ interrupted the nun, raising her pale, thin 
finger as the swelling strain of the organ floated up from 
the convent chapeLv-^The soft voices of the nuns mingled in 
plaintive harmony as they sang the hymn of the Virgin : 

“ Pia Mater ! Fons amoris ! 

Me sentire vim doloris, 

Fac, ut tecum lugeam ! ” 

“ Listen again ! ’’ continued the nun, “ they who sow in 
tears shall reap in joy, but only in paradise ! 

Again came the soft pleading notes of the sacred hymn : 

“ Quando Corpus morietur 
Fac ut animae donetur 
Paradisi gloria ! Amen ! 

The harmony filled the ears of Amelie and Heloise, 
like the lap of the weaves of eternity upon the world’s shore. 
It died away, and they continued praying before our Lady 
of Grand Pouvoir, while the Sacristaine kept on reciting 
her appointed litanies and supplications, half unmindful of 
their presence. 

The silence was suddenly broken. Hasty steps traversed 
the little chapel. A rush of garments caused Amelie and 
Heloise to turn round and in an instant they were both 
clasped in the passionate embrace of the Lady de Tilly 
who had arrived at the Convent. 

‘‘ My dear children, my poor stricken daughters ! ” ex- 
claimed she, kissing them passionately and mingling her 
tears with theirs, ‘‘ what have you done to be dashed to 
the earth by such a stroke of divine wrath ? ” 

O ! aunt ! pardon us for what we have done 1 ” exclaim- 
ed Amelie, and for not asking your consent, but alas ! it is 
God’s will and doing ! I have given up the world, do not 
blame me, aunt ! ” 

“Nor me, aunt!” added Heloise,” I have long known 
that the cloister was my sole heritage, and I now claim it.” 

“ Blame you, darling 1 O Amelie 1 in the shame and 
agony of this day I could share the cloister with you myself, 
forever, but my work is out in the wide world, and I must 
not withdraw my hand ! 

“ Have you seen Le Gardeur ? O, aunt I have you seen 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 653 

my brother ? ’’ asked Amelie, seizing her hand passion- 
ately. 

‘‘ I have seen him, and wept over -him,’^ was the reply. 
“O Amelie! great as is his offence, his crime — ^yes, I will 
be honest calling it such — no deeper contrihon could rend 
his heart had he committed all the sins forbidden in the 
decalogue. He demands a court martial to condemn him 
at once to death, upon his own self accusation and confes- 
sion of the murder of the good Bourgeois.’’ 

“O, aunt! and he loved the Bourgeois so! It seems 
like a hideous dream of fright and nightmare ! that Le 
Gardeur should assail the father of Pierre Philibert and 
mine that was to be ! ” 

At this thought the poor girl flung herself upon the bosom 
of the Lady de Tilly, convulsed and torn by as bitter sobs 
as ever drew human pity. 

Le Gardeur I Le Gardeur ! Good God ! what will they 
do with him, aunt ? Is he to die ? ” cried she, imploringly, 
as with streaming eyes she looked up at her aunt. 

“ Listen, Amelie ! Compose yourself and you shall hear. 
It was in the Church of Notre Dame des Victoires, when I 
received the tidings. It was long before the messenger 
found me. I rose instantly and hastened to the house of 
the Bourgeois, where its good master lay dead in his bloody 
vesture, I cannot describe the sad sight, Amelie ! I there 
learned that the Governor and La Come St. Luc had been 
to the house of the Bourgeois and had returned to the 
Castle.” 

“ O, aunt I did you see him ? Did you see the good old 
Bourgeois ? and you know he is dead ! ” 

Yes, Amelie ! I saw him, and could have wished my 
eye-sight blasted forever after. Do not ask me more.” 

But I must, aunt ! did you see ? O, why may I not yet 
utter his dear name ? Did you see Pierre } ” 

“ Yes ! Amelie ! Pierre came unexpectedly home while I 
was weeping over the dead corpse of his father. Poor 
Pierre ! my own sorrows were naught to his silent grief ! 
It was more terrible than the wildest outburst of passion 
I ever saw 1 ” 

And what did he say ? O, aunt, tell me all ! do not 
spare me one word, however bitter ! Did he not curse you ? 
Did he not curse me ? And above all, Le Gardeur ? O, he 
cursed us all ! he heaped a blasting malediction upon the 
whole house of Repentigny, did he not ? ” 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


654 

‘‘ Amdlie, be composed ! do not look at me so wildly 
with these dear eyes, and I will tell you/’ Her aunt tried 
to sooth her with foj^d caresses. 

“ I will be compose(3 ! I am calm ! Look now, aunt, I 
am calm ! ” exclaimed the grief-stricken girl, whose every 
nerve was quivering with wild excitement. 

The Lady de Tilly and Heloise made her to sit down, 
while each held forcibly a hand to prevent an access of 
hysteria. Mere Ste. Vierge rose and hastily left the chapel 
to fetch water. 

‘‘ Amelie ! the nobleness of Pierre Philibert is almost 
beyond the range of fallible mortals,” said the Lady de Tilly. 
‘‘ In the sudden crash of all his hopes he would not utter a 
word of invective against your brother. His heart tells him 
that Le Gardeur has been made the senseless instrument 
of others in this crime.” 

“ A thousand thanks ! dearest aunt, for your true ap- 
preciation of Pierre ! I know he deserves it all ! and when 
the veil covers my head forever from the eyes of men, it 
will be my sole joy to reflect that Pierre Philibert was 
worthy, more than worthy, of my love ! But what said he 
further } Aunt, O tell me all.” 

“ He rose from his knees beside the corpse of his 
father,” continued the Lady, and seeing me kneeling 
raised me and seated me in a chair beside him. He asked 
me where you were } and who was with you to support and 
comfort you in this storm of affliction ? I told him, and 
he kissed me, exclaiming ‘ O Aunt ! Mother ! What 
shall I do.?’” 

‘‘O aunt ! did Pierre say that ? Did he call you aunt 
and mother .? and he did not curse me at all ? Poor 
Pierre ! ” And she burst out into a flood of tears, which 
nothing could control. 

“ Yes Amelie I His heart is bleeding to death with 
this dreadful sword-stroke of Le Gardeur’s,” said the 
Lady de Tilly, after waiting till she recovered somewhat. 

“ And will he not slay Le Gardeur ? Will he not deem 
it his duty to kill my brother and his .? ” cried she. ‘‘ He is 
a soldier and must 1 ” 

‘‘ Listen, Amelie ! There is a divinity in Pierre that we 
only see in the noblest of men; he will not slay Le Gardeur. 
He is his brother and yours, and will regard him as such. 
Whatever he might have done in the first impulse of anger, 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 655 

Pierre will not now seek the life of Le Gardeur. He knows 
too well whence this blow has really come. He has been 
deeply touched by the remorse and self-accusation of 
Le Gardeur.” ■ ‘ 

‘‘ I could kiss his feet ! my noble Piefte ! O Aunt ! 
Annt ! what have I not lost ! But I was bethrothed to him, 
was I not ? ” She started up with a shriek of mortal 
agony. “ They never can recall that ! she cried wildly. 
‘‘ He was to have been mine ! He is still mine, and for- 
ever will be mine ! Death will reunite what in life is 
sundered ! Will it not. Aunt } ” 

“ Yes, be composed, darling ! and I will tell you more, 
nay do not look at me so, Amelie ! ” the Lady de Tilly 
stroked her cheek and kissed the dark eyes that seemed 
flaring out of their sockets with maddening excitement. 

When I had recovered strength enough to go to the 
castle to see the Count, Pierre supported me thither. He 
dared not trust himself to see Le Gardeur, who from his 
prison sent message after message to him to beg death at 
his hand.” 

I held a brief conference with the Governor, La Come 
St. Luc and a few gentlemen, who were hastily gathered 
together in the council chamber. I pleaded long, not for 
pardon, not even for Le Gardeur could I ask for pardon, 
Amdie !” exclaimed the just and noble woman, ‘‘but for a 
calm consideration of the terrible circumstances which had 
surrounded him in the Palace of the Intendant, and which 
had led directly to the catastrophe.” 

“ And what said they 1 O be quick. Aunt ! Is not 
Le Gardeur to be tried by martial law and condemned at 
once to death ? ” 

“ No, Amelie ! The Count de la Gallissoniere, with the 
advice of his wisest counsellors, among whom is your god- 
father and others, the dearest friends of both families, have 
resolved to send Le Gardeur to France, by the Fleur de 
Lys, which sails to-morrow. They do this in order that the 
king may judge of his offence, as also to prevent the 
conflict that may arise between the contending factions in 
the colony, should they try him here. This resolution may 
be wise or not. I do not judge, but such is the determina- 
tion of the Governor and Council, to which all must 
submit.” 

Amelie held her head between her palms for some 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


656 

moments. She was violently agitated, but she tried to 
consider as best she might, the decision with regard to her 
brother. 

“ It is merciful '■{■^^''vthem ! ” she said, ‘‘ and it is just ! 
The king will judge wnat is right in the sight of God and 
man ! Le Gardeur was^but a blind instrument of others in 
this murder, as blind almost as the sword he held in 
liis hand- But shall I not see him, Aunt, before ho 
is sent away 1 

‘‘ Alas, no ! The Governor, while kind, is inexorable on 
one point. He will permit no one after this to see Le Gar- 
deur, to express either blame or approval of his deed, or to 
report his words. He will forbid you and me and his 
nearest friends from holding any communication with him 
before he leaves the colony. The Count has remitted his 
case to the king, and resolved that it shall be accompanied 
by no self-accusations which Le Gardeur may utter in his 
frantic grief. The Count does this in justice as well 
as mercy, Amdlie ! ’’ 

“ Then I shall never see my brother more in this 
world ! Never ! ’’ exclaimed Amelie, supporting herself on 
the arm of Heloise. His fate is decided as well as mine, 
and yours too, O Heloise ! ’’ 

“ It may not be so hard with him as with us, Amelie ! ’’ 
replied Heloise, whose bosom was agitated with fresh 
emotions at every allusion to Le Gardeur. “The king 
may pardon him, Amelie ! ’’ Heloise in her soul hoped so, 
and in her heart prayed so. 

“ Alas ! If we could say God pardoned him ! ’’ replied 
Amelie, her thoughts running suddenly in a counter- 
current. “ But my life must be spent in imploring God’s 
grace and forgiveness all the same, whether man forgive 
him or no.’’ 

“ Say not my life, but our lives, Amelie ! We have 
crossed the threshold of this house together for the 
last time ! We go no more out to look upon a world 
fair and beautiful to see, but so full of disappointment and 
wretchedness to have experience of ! ” 

“ My daughters ! ” exclaimed the Lady de Tilly, ‘‘ano- 
ther time we will speak of this ! Harken, Amelie ! I did 
not tell you that Pierre Philibert came with me to the gate 
of the Convent to see you. He would have entered, but 
the Lady Superior refused inexorably to admit him even to 
the parlor. ” 


THE LAMP OF REPENTIGNY. 


6S7 

Pierre came to the Convent ? to the Convent ? ” re- 
peated Amelie with fond iteration, ‘‘ and they would not 
admit him ! Why would they not adiTijrhi^m ? But I should 
have died of shame to see him ! Tlj^^^y weT€'>^kind in their 
cruelty. Poor Pierre ! he thinks me still wotthy of some 
regard ! ” She commenced weeping afresh. 

He would fain have seen you, darling ! ’’ said her 
Aunt. ‘‘Your flight to the Convent, he knows what it 
means, overwhelms him with a new calamity ! ” 

“ And yet it cannot be otherwise ! I dare not place my 
hand in his now, for it would redden it ! But it is sweet 
amid my affliction to know. that Pierre has not forgotten 
me, that he does not hate me, nay, that he still loves me ! 
although I abandon the world and him who to me was the 
light of it ! Why would they not admit him ? 

“ Mere Migeon is as hard as she is just, Amelie ! 
I think too she has no love for the Philiberts. Her nephew 
Varin has all the influence of a spoilt son over the Lady 
Superior.’’ 

Amelie scarcely regarded the last remark of her aunt, 
but repeated the words “hard and just! Y^s, it is true, 
and hardness and justice are what I crave in my misery 1 
The flintiest couch shall be to me a bed of down ! the 
scantiest fare, a royal feast ! the hardest penance a life of 
pleasure ! Mere Migeon cannot be more hard nor more 
just to me than I would be to myself 1 ’’ 

“ My poor Amelie ! My poor Heloise 1 ” repeated the 
Lady, stroking their hair and kissing them both alternately, 
“ be it as God wills ! When it is dark every prospect lies 
hid in the darkness, but it is there all the same, though we 
see it not! but when the day returns everything is revealed ! 
We see nought before us now, but the image of our Lady 
of Grand Pouvoir illumined by the lamp of Repentigny, 
but the sun of righteousness will yet arise with healing on 
his wings for us all ! ” 

“ But O, my children ! let nothing be done hastily, 
rashly, or unbecoming the daughters of our honorable 
house.” 


42 


6s8 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


CHAPTER LVIII. 

‘‘lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay.” 

The chant of vespers had long ceased. The angelus 
had rung its last summons to invoke a blessing upon life 
and death at the close of the day. The quiet nuns filed off 
from their frugal meal in the long refectory and betook 
themselves to the Community or to their peaceful cells. 
The troop of children in their charge had been sent 
with prayer to their little couches in the dormitory, sacred 
to sleep and happy dreams. 

Candles flickered through the long passages as veiled 
figures slowly and noiselessly passed towards the chapel to 
their privafe devotions. Scarcely a footfall reached the 
ear, nor sound of any kind, except the sweet voice of Mere 
Madelaine de St. Borgia. Like the flow of a full stream in 
the still moonlight, she sang her canticle of praise to the 
guardian of the house, before she retired to rest — 

“ Ave, Joseph ! Fili David Juste ! 

Vir Mariae de qua natus est Jesus ! ’’ 

Lady de Tilly sat listening as she held the hands of 
two nieces, thinking how merciless was Fate, and half 
rebelling in her mind against the working of Providence. 
The sweet song of Mere St. Borgia fell like soft rain upon 
her hard thoughts, and instilled a spirit of resignation 
amid the darkness, as she repeated the words Ave 
Joseph!'’^ She fought bitterly in her soul against giving 
up her two lambs, as she called them, to the cold scant 
life of the cloister, while her judgment saw but too plainly, 
that nought else seemed left to their crushed and broken 
spirits. But she neither suggested their withdrawal from 
the convent, nor encouraged them to remain. 

In her secret thought, the Lady de Tilly regarded the 
cloister as a blessed refuge for the broken-hearted, a rest 
for the wear}^ and overladen with earthly troubles, a living 
grave, which such may covet and not sin ; but the young, 
the joyous, the beautiful, and all capable of making the 


LOVEL Y IN DEA TH," ETC. 


659 

world fairer and better, she would inexorably shut out ! 
Christ calls not these from the earthly paradise, but the 
afflicted, the disappointed, the despair ^ they who have 
fallen helplessly down in the jourigiey of ' lije, and are 
of no further use in this world, tliese he calls by their 
names and comforts them. But for those rare souls who 
are too cold for aught but spiritual joys, He reserves 
a peculiar though not his choicest benediction. 

The Lady de Tilly pondered these thoughts over and 
over in the fulness of pity for her children. She would not 
leave the convent at the closing of the gates for the night, 
but remained the honored guest of Mere Migeon, who 
ordered a chamber to be prepared for her in a style that 
was luxurious compared with the scantily furnished rooms 
allotted to the nuns. 

Amelie prevailed, after much entreaty, upon Mere 
Esther, to intercede with the Superior for permission 
to pass the night with Heloise in the cell that had once 
been occupied by her pious kinswoman. Mere Madelaine. 

‘‘ It is a great thing to ask ! ’’ replied Mere Esther 
as she returned with the desired boon, “ and a greater still 
to obtain it ! But Mere Migeon is in a benevolent mood 
to-night, for the sake of no one else would she have 
granted a dispensation of the rules of the house. 

In truth the venerable Superior was overjoyed by the 
arrival of so distinguished a postulante as Amelie de Re- 
pentigny. She regarded it as a special answer to her 
fervent and frequent j^rayers for the restoration to the 
community of the prosperity they had enjoyed before the 
war. The Lady Superior refused Amelie nothing. 

The two postulantes were conducted by Mere Esther 
through a long passage, on one side of which opened the 
doors of the chambers of the nuns, each cell with its soli- 
tary tenant, asleep after repeating her pious memorare^ or 
awake and reciting it over again. 

Mere Esther stopped before a closed door, over which 
was painted in black letters, the sacred text, “ Come unto 
me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest” 

‘‘ This was the cell of the faithful handmaid of Mary, 
your beloved aunt. Mere Madelaine,’’ remarked Mere 
Esther, as she. opened the door. 


66o 


THE CHIEN HOR. 


“ I know it,” replied Amelie. It is a narrow haven, 
but it will hold my small and shattered bark. The spirit 
of my kinswompfi Rogers here, and it will help me to learn 
the hard lesson of r^ignation.” 

‘‘ Our Lord, who wept at Bethany, will weep with you, 
my children,” replied' Mere Esther, kissing the young 
postulantes as she bade them good-night and left them, 
with tears of true womanly sympathy upon her aged cheek. 

‘‘ I feel a cold breath, as it were a greeting from the 
spirit of our kinswoman,” said Amelie, as she entered the 
little room, which revealed in the light of the lamp she 
carried, a couch of spotless drapery, but hard as the bed 
of an anchorite, a chair or two of wood, a plain table, upon 
which lay a few books of devotion, and in a little recess, 
a picture of the weeping Madonna, wrought in silk — a 
masterpiece of needlework from the hands of Mere 
Madelaine. 

‘‘ The embroidering of that saved her life,” whispered 
Amelie, holding up the lamp as she knelt reverently before 
it. “ For in that she wrought the grief of her soul for the 
loss of Julian Lemoine. It is a memorial of her agony for 
his death upon the field of battle. But she is now happy 
with Julian, think 5 ;ou not so, Heloise 

“I pray so! Nay, I believe it, Amelie! But Aunt 
Madelaine’s fate was enviable compared with ours. To lose 
the dead is hard, but it may be borne ; but to lose the 
living and live on and remember daily our loss — who can 
endure that, Amelie ? ” 

The lamp shed a melancholy radiance over the sugges- 
tive picture. The two girls knelt together and wept, and 
prayed for hours uncounted by themselves. Only God 
counted them, and put all their tears in His bottle, as the 
Hebrew prophet quaintly describes the tender care of the 
Lord for his children of affliction. 

Lady de Tilly held that night a long and serious con- 
ference with Mere Migeon and Mere Esther, upon the 
event which had driven her nieces to the Cloister, prom- 
ising that if, at the end of a month, they persisted in their 
resolution, she would consent to their assumption of the 
white veil, and upon the completion of their noviciate, 
when they took the final vows, she would give them up 
with such a dower as would make all former gifts of the 
house of Repentigny and Tilly poor in the comparison. 


Z 0 VEL Y IN DEA TH;\ E TC, 


66i 


Mere Migeon was especially overjoyed at this pros- 
pect of relieving the means of her house, which had been 
so terribly straitened of late years. iv^sses occasioned 

by the war had been a never ending sourcfe\of anxiety to 
her and Mere Esther, who, however, kept their troubles, 
as far as possible, to themselves, in order that the cares 
of the world might not encroach too far upon the minds of 
the Community. Hence, they were more than ordinarily 
glad at this double vocation in the house of Repentigny. 
The prospect of its great wealth falling to pious uses, they 
regarded as a special mark of Divine Providence and care 
for the house of Ste. Ursule. 

“ O, Mere Esther ! Mere Esther ! ” exclaimed the 
lady Superior. ‘‘ I feel too great a satisfaction in view of 
the rich dower of these two girls. I need much self-exam- 
ination to weed out worldly thoughts. Alas ! Alas ! I 
would rather be the humblest aunt in our kitchen, than 
the Lady Superior of the Ursulines. Blessed old Mere 
Marie used to say ‘ a good turn in the kitchen was as good 
as a prayer in the chapel.’ ” 

Mere Esther reflected a moment, and said, We have 
long found it easier to pray for souls than to relieve bodies. 
I thank good St. Joseph for this prospective blessing upon 
our monastery.” 

During the long and wasting war. Mere Migeon had 
seen her poor nuns reduced to grievous straits, which 
they bore cheerfully, however, as their share of the com- 
mon suffering of their country. The cassette of St. Joseph, 
wherein were deposited the oboli for the poor, had long 
been emptied. The image of St. Joseph an hie, that stood 
at the great stair, and kept watch over the store room of 
corn and bread, had often guarded an empty chamber. 
St Joseph au laheiir,, overlooking the great kitchen of the 
convent, had often been deaf to the prayers of my 
aunts,” who prepared the food of the community. The 
meagre tables of the refectory had not seldom been the 
despair of the old depositaire. Mere St. Louis, who de- 
voutly said her longest graces over her scantiest meals. 

“ I thank St. Joseph for what he gives, and for what 
he withholds, yea, for what he takes away ! ” observed 
Mere St. Louis to her special friend and gossip. Mere St. 
Antoine, as they retired from the chapel. ‘‘ Our years of 
famine are nearly over. The day of the consecration of 


662 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


Amelie cle Repentigny will be to us the marriage at Cana. 
Our water will be turned into wine. I shall no longer 
need to save the cruh^rbs, except for the poor at our gate.’’ 

The adverif of Ai^elie de Repentigny was a circum- 
stance of absorbing interest to the nuns, who regarded it 
as a reward for their long devotions and prayers for the 
restoration of their house to its old prosperity. We usually 
count Providence upon our side, when we have consciously 
done ought to merit the good fortune that befalls us.” 

And now days came and went, went and came as Time 
the inexorable ever does, regardless of human joys or sor- 
rows. Amelie, weary of the world, was only desirous of 
passing away from it, to that sphere where time is not, and 
where our affections and thoughts alone measure the periods 
of eternity. For time there is but the shadow that accom- 
panies the joys of angels, or the woes of sinners, not the 
reality. It is time here, eternity there ! 

The two postulantes seemed impressed with the spirit 
that to their fancies, lingered in the cell of their kins- 
woman, Mere Madelaine. They bent their gentle necks 
to the heaviest yoke of spiritual service, which their Super- 
ior would consent to lay upon them. 

Amelie’s inflexible will made her merciless towards 
herself. She took pleasure in the hardest of self-imposed 
penances, as if the racking of her soul by incessant prayers, 
and wasting of her body by vigils and cruel fastings, were 
a vicarious punishment, borne for the sake of her hapless 
brother. 

She could not forget Pierre, nor did she ever try to 
forget him. It was observed by the younger nuns, that 
when by chance or design, they mentioned his name, she 
looked up and her lips moved in silent prayer ; but she 
spoke not of him, save to her aunt and to Heloise. These 
two faithful friends alone knew the inexpressible anguish 
with which she had heard of Pierre’s intended departure 
for France. 

The shock caused by the homicide of the Bourgeois, 
and the consequent annihilation of all the hopes of her 
life in a happy union with Pierre Philibert, was too much 
for even her naturally sound and elastic constitution. Her 
health gave way irrecoverably. Her face grew thin and wan 
without losing any of its spiritual beauty, as her soul look- 
ed through its ever more transparent covering, which daily 


LOVEL Y IN’ DBA TH;' ETC. 


663 

grew more and more aetherialized as she faded away. A 
hectic flush, like a spot of fire, came and. went for a time, 
and at last settled permanently upon her cheek. Her 
eyes, those glorious orbs, filled with unquenek^ble love, 
grew supernaturally large and brilliant with the flames 
that fed upon her vital forces. Amalie sickened and sank 
rapidly. The vulture of quick consumption had fastened 
upon her young life. 

Mere Esther and Mere Migeon shook their heads, for 
they were used to broken hearts, and knew the infallible 
signs which denote an early death in the young and beau- 
tiful. Prayers and masses were offered for the recovery 
of Amelie, but all in vain. God wanted her. He alone 
knew how to heal that broken heart. It was seen that she 
had not long to live. It was known she wished to die. 

Pierre heard the tidings with overwhelming grief. He 
had been permitted but once to see her for a few brief mo- 
ments, which dwelt upon his mind for ever. He deferred 
his departure to Europe in consequence of her illness, and 
knocked daily at the door of the convent to ask after her 
and leave some kind message or flower, which was faithfully 
carried to her by the friendly nuns who received him at the 
wicket. A feeling of pity and sympathy for these two 
affianced and unfortunate lovers stole into the hearts of the 
coldest nuns, while the novices and the romantic convent 
girls were absolutely wild over the melancholy fate of 
Pierre and Amelie. 

He long solicited in vain for another interview with 
Amelie, but until it was seen that she was approaching the 
end, it was not granted him. Mere Esther interceded 
strongly with the Lady Superior, who was jealous of the 
influence of Pierre with her young novice. At length 
Amelie’s prayers overcame her scruples. He was told one 
day that Amelie was dying, and wished to see him for the 
last time in this world. 

Amelie was carried in a chair to the bars to receive her 
sorrowing lover. Her pale face retained its statuesque 
beauty of outline, but so thin and wasted ! 

“ Pierre will not know me,’' whispered she to Heloise, 
but I shall smile at the joy of meeting him, and then he 
will recognize me.” 

Her flowing veil was thrown back from her face. She 
spoke little, but her dark eyes were fixed with devouring 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


664 

eagerness upon the door by which she knew Pierre would 
come in. Her aunt supported her head upon her shoulder, 
while Heloise kneTp-^t her knee and fanned her with sis- 
terly tenderness, whispering words of sisterly sympathy in 
her ear. 

Pierre flew to the convent at the hour appointed. He 
was at once admitted, with a caution from Mere Esther to 
be calm and not agitate the dying girl. The moment he 
entered the great parlor, Amdlie sprang from her seat with 
a sudden cry of recognition, extending her poor thin hands 
through the bars towards him. Pierre seized them, kissing 
them passionately, but broke down utterly at the sight of 
her wasted face and the seal of death set thereon. 

‘‘ Amelie ! my darling Amelie ! exclaimed he, I have 
prayed so long to see you, and they would not let me in.’’ 

“ It was partly my fault, Pierre,” said she fondly. “ I 
feared to let you see me. I feared to learn that you hate, 
as you have cause to do, the whole house of Repentigny ! 
And yet you do not curse me, dear Pierre ? ” 

My poor angel, you break my heart ! I curse the house 
of Repentigny ? I hate you ? Amelie, you know me bet- 
ter.” 

But your good father, the noble and just Bourgeois ! 
O ! Pierre, what have we not done to you and yours ! ” 

She fell back upon her pillow, covering her eyes with 
her semi-transparent hands, bursting, as she did so, into a 
flood of passionate tears and passing into a dead faint. 

Pierre was wild with anguish. He pressed against the 
bars. “For God’s sake, let me in ! ” exclaimed he, “ she 
is dying ! ” 

The two quiet nuns who were in attendance shook their 
heads at Pierre’s appeal to open the door. They were too 
well disciplined in the iron rule of the house to open it 
without an express order from the Lady Superior, or from 
Mere Esther. Their bosoms, abounding in spiritual warmth, 
responded coldly to the contagion of mere human passion. 
Their ears, unused to the voice of man’s love, tingled at the 
words of Pierre. Fortunately, Mere Esther, ever on the 
watch, came into the parlor, and, seeing at a glance the 
need of the hour, opened the iron door and bade Pierre 
come in. He rushed forward and threw himself at the feet 
of Amelie, calling her by the most tender appellatives, and 
seeking to recall her to a consciousness of his presence. 


» LOVEL V IN DBA TH^ ETC, 665 

That loved familiar voice overtook her spirit, already 
winging its flight from earth, and brought it back for a few 
minutes longer. Mere Esther, a skil^dinur^e, administered 
a few drops of cordial, and, seeing her dyiiig condition, 
sent instantly for the physician and the chaplain. 

Amelie opened her eyes and tCirned them inquiringly 
round the group until they fastened upon Pierre. A flash 
of fondness suddenly suffused her face, as she remembered 
how and why he was there. She threw her arms round his 
neck and kissed him many times, murmuring, ‘‘ I have 
often prayed to die thus, Pierre ! close to you, my love, close 
to you ; in your arms and God’s, where you could receive 
my last breath, and feel in the last throb of my heart that 
it is wholly yours ! ” 

“ My poor Amelie,” cried he, pressing her to his bosom, 
‘•‘you shall not die ! Courage, darling ! It is but weakness 
and the air of the convent ; you shall not die.” 

“ I am dying now, Pierre,” said she, falling back upon 
her pillow. “ I feel I have but a short time to live ! I 
welcome death, since I cannot be yours. But, O ! the un- 
utterable pang of leaving you, my dear love ! ” 

Pierre could only reply by sobs and kisses. Amelie 
was silent for a few moments, as if revolving some deep 
thought in her mind. 

“ There is one thing, Pierre, I have to beg of you,” said 
she, faltering as if doubting his consent to her prayer. “ Can 
you, will you, accept my life for Le Gardeur’s } If I die 
for hwi^ will you forgive my poor blood-stained and deluded 
brother, and your own ? Yes, Pierre,” repeated she, as she 
raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, “ your brother, as 
well as mine ! Will you forgive him, Pierre ? ” 

“ Amelie ! Amelie ! ” replied he, with a voice broken 
with emotion, “ can you fancy other than that I would for- 
give him ? I forgave Le Gardeur from the first. In my 
heart I never accused him of my father’s death. Alas ! he 
knew not what he did ! He was but a sword in the hands 
of my father’s enemies. I forgave him then, darling, and I 
forgive him wholly now, for your sake and his own ! ” 

‘‘ My noble Pierre ! ” replied she, putting out her arms 
towards him. “Why might not God have suffered me to 
reward such divine goodness ? Thanks, my love ! I now 
die content with all things but parting with you.” She 
held him fast by his hands, one of which she kept pressed 


666 


THE CHIEN HO R. 


to her lips. They all looked at her expectingly, waiting 
for her to speak again, for her eyes were wide open and 
fixed with a logk ‘c>t*smeffable love upon the face of Pierre, 
looking like life aftenlife was fled. She still held him in 
her rigid clasp, but she moved not. Upon her pale lips a 
smile seemed to hover. It was but the shadow left behind 
of her retreating soul. Amelie de Repentigny was dead 1 
The angel of death had kissed her lovingly, and unnoticed 
of any she had passed with him away ! 

The watchful eye of the Lady de Tilly was the first to 
see that Amelie’s breath had gone so quietly that no one 
caught her latest sigh. The physician and chaplain rushed 
hurriedly into the - chamber, but too late ! The great phy- 
sician of souls had already put his beloved to sleep — the 
blessed sleep, whose dream is of love on earth, and whose 
waking is in heaven ! The great high priest of the sons 
and daughters of men had anointed her with the oil of his 
mercy, and sent his blessed angels to lead her to the man- 
sions of everlasting rest. 

The stroke fell like the stunning blow of a hammer 
upon the heart of Pierre. He had, indeed, foreseen her 
death, but tried in vain to realize it. He made no outcry, 
but sat still wrapped in a terrible silence, as in the midst 
of a desert. He held fast her dead hands, and gazed upon 
her dead face until the heart-breaking sobs of Heloise, and 
the appeals of Mere Esther, roused him from his stupor. 

He rose up, and, lifting Amelie in his arms, laid her 
upon a couch tenderly and reverently, as a man touches 
the holiest object of his religion. Amelie was to him a 
sacrament, and in his manly love he worshipped her more 
as a saint than as a woman, a creation of heavenly more 
than of earthly perfections. 

Pierre bent over her and closed for the last time those 
dear eyes which had looked upon him so pure and so lov- 
ingly. He embraced her dead form, and kissed those pal- 
lid lips, which had once confessed her unalterable love and 
truth for Pierre Philibert. 

The agitated nuns gathered round them at the news of 
death in the convent. They looked wonderingly and earn- 
estly at an exhibition of such absorbing affection, and 
were for the most part in tears. With some of these gen- 
tle women, this picture of true love, broken in the midst of 
its brightest hopes, woke sympathies and recollections. 


' THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLY. ’ 


65 ; 


which the watchful eye of Mere Migeon promptly checked 
as soon as she came into the parlor. ^ 

The Lady Superior saw that a^n^was ^pver, and that 
Pierre’s presence was an uneasin^,^ss to th^ nuns, who 
glanced at him with eyes of pity and womanly sympathy. 
She took him kindly by the hand, with a few words of con- 
dolence, and intimated that as he had been permitted to 
see the end, he must now withdraw from those forbidden 
precincts, and leave his lost treasure to the care of the 
nuns who take charge of the dead. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

“the mills of god grind slowly.” 

P IERRE was permitted to see the remains of his affianced 
bride interred in the convent chapel. Her modest 
funeral was impressive from the number of sad sympathizing 
faces which gathered round her grave. 

The quiet figure of a nun was seen morn and eve, for 
years and years after, kneeling upon the stone slab that 
covered her grave, laying upon it her daily offering of 
flowers, and if the name of Le Gardeur mingled with her 
prayers, it was but a proof of the unalterable affection of 
Heloise de Lotbiniere, known in religion as Mere St. 
Croix. 

The lamp of Repentigny shed its beams henceforth 
over the grave of the last representative of that noble 
house, where it still shines to commemorate their virtues, 
and perpetuate the memory of their misfortunes ; but God 
has long since compensated them for all. 

Lady de Tilly was inconsolable over the ruin of her 
fondest hopes. She had regarded Pierre as her son, and 
intended to make him and Amelie joint inheritors with Le 
Gardeur of her immense wealth. She desired still to be- 
queath it to Pierre, not only because of her great kindness 
for him, but as a sort of self-imposed amercement upon 
her house for the death of his father. 

Pierre refused : “ I have more of the world’s riches 


668 


THE CHIEND^OR. 


already than I can use/’ said he, and I value not what I 
have, since she i^oJ^one for whose sake alone I prized 
them. I shalKgo abrlpad to resume my profession of arms, 
not seeking, yet not ^voiding an honorable death, which 
may reunite me to Aipelie, and the sooner, the more wel- 
come ! ” 

O God that rules the world ! ” was an exclamation 
often repeated by the noble lady in those sad days, ‘Gvhat 
a wreck of happiness is ours ! I cannot resign myself to it ! 
and I ask, vainly, vainly, what we have done to bring upon 
our heads such a heavy judgment as this ? ” 

“ The ways of Providence are justified by faith, not by 
fallible reason, which is too short-sighted to see the end 
of things,” was the reply of the Reverend Father de Berey 
who often visited her in her affliction. ‘ We see but in 
part, we know but in part. The righteous perisheth, and 
I see the wicked in great power, spreading like a green 
bay tree.’ But mark the end : ‘ The end of the upright 
man is peace, the end of the wicked shall be cut off,’ 
saith God. Let us never forget amid our repining at 
Providence, that God reigneth over all. The end that we 
see, is not the end that God sees. Man’s ends are but 
beginnings in the eternal scheme of human destiny. God’s 
ends are not on earth, but in that spiritual world, where 
eternity takes the place of time, where our sharp — may be 
our unmerited — trials here, are amply recompensed in the 
full plan of divine beneficence hereafter. ‘ Darkness 
lasteth through the night, but joy cometh in the morn- 
ing ! ’ ” 

The habitual gayety of the Superior of the Recollets 
dropped like a mask from his face in the presence of a 
real sorrow, and he stood revealed in his true character of 
a grave earnest Christian, teaching in all seriousness, the 
duty of resignation amid the trials of this world, and a 
lively faith in the certainty of God’s ways being justified in 
the world to come. 

Lady de Tilly sought by assiduous devotion to the 
duties of her life and station, distraction from the gnaw- 
ing cares that ever preyed upon her. She but partially suc- 
ceeded. She lived -through the short peace of Aix la 
Chapelle, and shared in the terrible sufferings of the 
seven years war that followed in its wake. When the 
final conquest of New France overwhelmed the Colony to 


» THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLYT 669 

all appearances in utter ruin, she en^^^ed the Ursiilines 
with a large portion of her remaining wealth, and retired 
with her nearest kinsmen to France^i. The name of Tilly 
became extinct among the noblesse of the colony, but it 
still flourishes in a vigorous branch upon its native soil of 
Normandy. 

Pierre Philibert passed a sad winter in arranging and 
settling the vast affairs of his father before leaving New 
France. In the Spring following the death of Amelie, he 
passed over to the old world, bidding a long and last 
adieu to his native land. 

Pierre endeavored manfully to bear up under the load 
of recollections and sorrows which crushed his heart, and 
made him a grave and melancholy man before his time. 
He rejoined the army of his Sovereign, and sought danger 
— his comrades said for danger’s sake — with a desperate 
valor that was the boast of the army ; but few suspected 
that he sought death, and tempted fate in ever}^ form. 

His wish was at last accomplished — as all earnest, ab- 
sorbing wishes ever are — he fell valorously, dying a 
soldier’s death upon the field of Minden, his last mo- 
ments sweetened by the thought that his beloved Amelie 
was waiting for him on the other side of the dark river, to 
welcome him with the bridal kiss, promised upon the 
banks of the lake of Tilly. He met her joyfully in that 
land where love is real, and where its promises are never 
broken ! 

The death of the Bourgeois Philibert, affecting so 
many fortunes, was of immense consequence to the 
colony. It led to the ruin of the party of the Honnetes 
Gens, to the supremacy of the Grand Company, and the final 
overthrow of New France. 

The power and extravagance of Bigot after that event, 
grew without check or challenge, and the departure of the 
virtuous La Gallissoniere left the coliony to the weak and 
corrupt administrations of La Jonquiere, and De Vaudreuil. 
The latter made the castle of St. Louis as noted for its 
venality, as was the palace of the Intendant. Bigot kept 
his high place through every change. The Marquis de 
Vaudreuil gave him free course ; and it was more than 
suspected shared with the corrupt Intendant in the plunder 
of the colony. 

These public vices bore their natural fruit, and all the 


THE CHIEN H OR, 


670 

efforts of the Honnpes Gens to stay the tide of corruption 
were futile. Mbntc^^i^, after reaping successive harvests 
of victories, ^ brilliant\ beyond all precedent in North 
America, died a sacrifece to the insatiable greed and 
extravagance of Bigot p.nd his associates, who, while en- 
riching themselves, starved the army, and plundered the 
colony of all its resources. The fall of Quebec, and the 
capitulation of Montreal were less owing to the power of 
the English than to the corrupt misgovernment of Bigot 
and Vaudreuil, and the neglect by the court of France of 
her ancient and devoted colony. 

Le Gardeur, after a long confinement in the Bastille, 
where he incessantly demanded trial and punishment for his 
rank offence of the murder of the Bourgeois, as he ever 
called it, was at last liberated by express command of 
the king, without trial, and against his own wishes. His 
sword was restored to him, accompanied by a royal order, 
bidding him upon his allegiance return to his regiment, as 
an officer of the king, free from all blame for the offence 
laid to his charge. Whether the killing of the Bourgeois 
was privately regarded at court as good service, was never 
known. But Le Gardeur, true to his loyal instincts, obeyed 
the king, rejoined the army, and once more took the field. 

Upon the outbreak of the last French war in America, 
he returned to New France a changed and reformed man ; 
an ascetic in his living, and although a soldier, a monk in 
the vigor of his penitential observances. His professional 
skill and daring were conspicuous among the number of 
gallant officers upon whom Montcalm chiefly relied to 
assist him in his long and desperate struggle against the 
ever increasing forces of the English. From the capture 
of Chouaguen, and the defence of the Fords of Mont- 
morency — to the last brave blow struck upon the plains of 
St. Foye, Le Gardeur de Repentigny fulfilled every duty 
of a gallant and despejrate soldier. He carried his life in 
his hand, and valued it as cheaply as he did the lives of 
his enemies. 

He never spoke to Angelique again ! Once he met her 
full in the face, upon the perron of the Cathedral of St. 
Marie. She started as if touched by fire, — trembled, 
blushed, hesitated, and extended her hand to him in the 
old familiar way — with that look of witchery in her eyes, 
and that seductive smile upon her lips, which once sent the 


“ THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLYF 671 

hot blood coursing madly in his veins. But Le Gardeur’s 
heart was petrified now ! He cared^,^^0^ no woman more — 
or if he did, his thought dwelt witji 'silent"Xegret upon that 
pale nun in the Convent of the Tjrsulines— ronce Heloise 
de Lotbiniere, who he knew was tvasting her young life in 
solitary prayers for pardon for his great offence.” 

His anger rose fiercely at the sight of Angelique, and 
Le Gardeur forgot for a moment that he was a gentleman, 
a man who had once loved this woman. He struck her a 
blow, and passed on ! It shattered her last illusion. The 
proud girilty woman still loved Le Gardeur, if she loved any 
man. But she felt she had merited his scorn. She 
staggered, and sat down on the steps of the cathedral — ■ 
weeping the bitterest tears her eyes had ever wept in her 
life. She never saw Le Gardeur again. 

After the conquest of New France, Le Gardeur letired 
with the shattered remnant of the army of France back to 
their native land. His Sovereign loaded him with honors, 
which he cared not for. He had none to share them with 
now ! Lover, sister, friends, all were lost and gone ! But 
he went on performing his military duties with an iron 
rigor and punctuality, that made men admire, while they 
feared him. His life was more mechanical than human. 
Le Gardeur spared neither himself nor others. He never 
married, and never again looked with kindly eye upon a 
woman. His heart was proof against every female bland- 
ishment. He ended his life in solitary state and greatness, 
as Governor of Mahe in India, many years after he had 
left his native Canada. 

One day, in the year of grace, 1777, another council of 
war was sitting in the great chamber of the Castle of St. 
Louis, under a wonderful change of circumstances ! An 
English governor. Sir Guy Carleton, presided over a mixed 
assemblage of English and Canadian officers. The Royal 
Arms and colors of England had replaced the emblems 
and ensigns of France upon the walls of the council 
chamber, and the red uniform of her army was loyally 
worn by the old but still indomitable La Come St. Luc, 
who with the De Salaberrys, the De Beaujeus, Duchesnays, 
de Gaspes, and others of noblest name and lineage in New 
France, had come. forward as loyal subjects of England’s 
crown to defend Canada against the armies of the 
English colonies, now in rebellion against the king. 


672 


THE CHIEN H OR. 


The noblesse and people of New France, all that was 
best and of most e^ein in the land, gave their allegiance 
loyally and unreservedly to England, upon their final 
abandonment Ey the court of France. They knew they 
had been coldly, deliber^itely, cruelly deserted by their king, 
and the colony utterly ruined by the malversations of his 
Intendant. 

Montcalm had appealed vainly again and again for 
help. He fought his last campaign with the letter of the 
Marshal De Belle Isle in his pocket, refusing the reinforce- 
ments he had so earnestly requested, and coldly bidding 
him make : the best fight he could to save the king’s honor 
and his own.” 

The Canadians neither forgot nor forgave the bonfires 
of Voltaire, nor the flatterers who congratulated La 
Pompadour, on the loss of those acres of snow in 
Canada.” But the honor and much of the strength of 
France were lost with them. “ When -the house is on fire, 
nobody minds about the stables !” was the heartless sarcasm 
of Berreyer, Minister of Marine and Colonies, to De 
Bougainville, deputed to make a last desperate appeal for 
help to the mother country, which caused the indignant 
delegate to reply to Berreyer, that his answer was worthy 
of a horse.” 

Still, the rending of the old ties of nationality had 
been terrible, and the fond hahitans long looked and 
prayed for the return of their Boimes Gens, from France, 
who never came I Canada had been left to its fate. The 
people of the colony settled down by degrees as loyal and 
faithful subjects of England. 

When the conquest of New France by England, had its 
counterstroke in the revolt of the English colonies, 
the Canadians were immovable from their new allegiance. 
They turned a deaf ear to the appeals of Congress and to 
the proclamations of Washington, inciting them to revolt, 
and especially scorned the seductive offers of La Fayette 
and D’Estaing to join in the league with the Americans. 

The Canadians saw with resentment, French fleets and 
armies despatched to America, to aid the Bostonais, a 
fraction of which force sent in the hour of need, would 
have saved New France from conquest! The assistance 
which had been so brutally denied to her own children, 
France now gave lavishly to their hereditary enemies who 
had for over a century been trying to conquer Canada. 


“ THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLY: 673 

Through causes rooted deeply in the history of New 
France, the Canadians had ever ^^rded the English 
colonists in America as their ene^inies, far more than the 
English themselves, and, therefore, when driven to a choice 
between the two, they remained tr\ie to England, and their 
wise choice has been justified to this day. 

The patriotic Bishop Briand exhorted the people in 
season and out of season, to stand by their king and 
country ! the clergy everywhere preached damnation 
against all who took not up arms to oppose the invasion 
of Arnold and Montgomery ! some of them like the war- 
like Cure Bailly, actually took the field, and fell in defence 
of the colony ! The officers and leaders of the Canadians, 
who had fought in the old wars so gallantly for France, now 
donned the English uniform, and led' their countrymen in 
the defence of Quebec, with the same valor and with’ better 
success than when . opposing Wolfe and Murray. The 
death of Jumonville de Villiers was gloriously avenged ! 

“ Read that. La Come ! ’’ said Sir Guy Carleton, handing 
him a newspaper just received from England. ‘‘ An old 
friend of yours if I mistake not, is dead ! I met him once 
in India. A stern saturnine man he was ! but a brave 
and able commander — I am sorry to hear of his death, but 
I do not wonder at it. He was* the most melancholy man 
I ever saw.’’ 

La Come took the paper and gave a start of intense 
emotion, as he read an obituary notice as follows : — 

East Indies. Death of the Marquis De Repentigny. 
The Marquis Le Gardeur de Repentigny, general of the 
army and governor of Mahe, died last year in that part of 
India, which he had by his valor and skill preserved to 
France. This officer had served in Canada with the repu- 
tation of an able and gallant soldier.” 

La Come was deeply agitated, his lips quivered and 
tears gathered in the thick gray eye lashes that formed so 
prominent a feature of his rugged but kindly face. He 
concluded his reading in silence — and handed the paper 
to De Beaujeu, with the single remark — ‘‘ Le Gardeur is 
dead ! poor fellow ! He was more sinned against than sin- 
ning ! God pardon him for all the evil he meant not to do ! 
Is it not strange that she, who was the cursed cause of his 
ruin, still flourishes like the Queen of the kingdom of 
Brass ? It is hard to justify the ways of Providence, when 

43 


THE CH/EAT HOE. 


674 

wickedness like hers prospers, and virtues like those of the 
brave old Bourg^ols^hnd a bloody grave ! My poor 
Amelie too ! poor girl, wor girl ! La Come St. Luc sat 
silent a long time immersed in melancholy reflections. 

The Canadian officers read the paragraph which re- 
vived in their minds al^o sad recollections of the past. 
They knew that by her, who had been the cursed cause of 
the ruin of Le Gardeur and of the death of the Bourgeois, 
La Come referred to the still blooming widow of the 
Chevalier de Bean — the leader of fashion and gaiety in 
the capital now, as she had been thirty years before, when 
she was the celebrated Angelique des Meloises. 

Angelique had played desperately her game of life with 
the juggling fiend of ambition, and had not wholly lost. 
Although the murder of Caroline de St. Castin, pressed 
. hard upon her conscience, and still harder upon her fears, 
no man read in her face the minutest asterisk that pointed 
to the terrible secret buried in her bosom, and never dis- 
covered it. So long as La Corriveau lived, Angelique never 
felt safe. But fear was too weak a counsellor for her to 
pretermit either her composure or her pleasures. She re- 
doubled her gayety, and her devotions ; and that was the 
extent of her repentance ! The dread secret of Beau- 
manoir was never revealed. ‘ It awaited, and awaits still, 
the judgment of the final day of accompt. 

Bigot in his heart suspected her of complicity with the 
bloody deed, but proof failed, nor could he ever detect 
upon her countenance or in her words, watch as he would, 
one sign of the guilt, she kept so well concealed from his 
eye. He was never quite satisfied, however, with her inno- 
cence, and although so deeply smitten by her beauty and 
fascinations, he would not marry her. 

Angelique had intrigued and sinned in vain. She 
feared Bigot knew more than he really . did in reference to 
the death of Caroline, and oft while laughing in his face, 
she trembled in her heart when he played and equivocated 
with her earnest appeals to rnarry her. Wearied out at 
length with waiting for his decisive yes or no, Angelique, 
mortified by wounded pride and stung by the scorn of Le 
Gardeur on his return to the colony, suddenly accepted 
the hand of the Chevalier de Bean, and as a result became 
the recognized mistress of the Intendant — imitating as far 
as she was able the splendor and the guilt of La Bompa* 


“ THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLYR 675 

dour, and making the palace of Bigot as corrupt, if not as 
brilliant, as that of Versailles. ' 

Angelique lived thenceforth L life df splendid sin. 
She clothed herself in purple Stnd fine liiren, while the 
noblest ladies of the land were reirluced by the war to rags 
and beggary. She fared sumptuously while men and 
women died of hunger in the streets of Quebec. She 
bought houses and lands and filled her coffers with gold 
out of the public treasury, while the brave soldiers of 
Montcalm starved for want of their pay. She gave fetes 
and banquets while the English were thundering at the 
gates of the Capital. She foresaw the eventual fall of 
Bigot and the rain of the country, and resolved that since 
she had failed in getting himself, she would make herself 
possessor of all that he had — and she got it ! 

The fate of Bigot was a warning to public peculators 
and oppressors. He returned to France soon after the 
surrender of the colony, with Cadet, Varin, Penisault and 
others of the Grand Company, who were now useless tools 
and were cast aside by their court friends. The Bastile 
opened its iron doors to receive the godless and wicked 
crew, who had lost the fairest colony of France — the rich- 
est jewel in her crown. Bigot and the others were tried 
by a special commission, were found guilty of the most 
heinous malversations of office, and sentenced to make full 
restitution of the plunder of the King’s treasures — to be 
imprisoned until their fines and restitutions were paid, and 
then banished from the kingdom forever. 

History has so far utterly, failed to tell us with certainty 
what was the end of Bigot. Singular as it may seem, a 
man who played so important a part in Canada, found no 
one to record his death or to write his epitaph. It is be- 
lieved that by favor of La Pompadour his heavy sentence 
was commuted, and he retained a sufficiency of his ill-got- 
ten wealth to enable him, under a change of name, to live 
in ease and opulence at Bordeaux, where he died. 

Angelique had no sympathyfor Bigot in his misfortunes, 
no regrets save that she had failed to mould him more 
completely to her own purposes, flattering herself that 
had she done so, the fortunes of the war and the fate of 
the colony might have been different. What might have 
been, had she not ruined herself and her projects by the 
murder of Caroline, it were vain to conjecture. But she 


THE CHIEN HOR, 


676 

who had boldly dreamed of ruling king and kingdom, by 
the witchery of i^eF'^arms and the craft of her subtle 
intellect, had to content "herself with the name of De Pean 
and the shame of a lawless connection with the Intendant. 

She would fain have gone to France to try her fortunes 
when the colony was lost, but La Pompadour forbade her 
presence there under pain of her severest displeasure. 
Angelique raved at the inhibition, but was too wise 
to tempt the wrath of the royal mistress by disobeying 
her mandate. She had to content herself with rail- 
ing at La Pompadour with the energy of three Furies, 
but she never ceased to the end of her life to boast of the 
terror which her charms had exercised over the great fa- 
vorite of the King. 

Rolling in wealth and scarcely faded in beauty, Angel- 
ique kept herself in the public eye. She hated retirement 
and boldly claimed her right to a foremost place in the 
society of Quebec. Her great wealth and unrivalled 
power of intrigue enabled her to keep that place down to 
the last decade of the last century. A generation ago, 
very old men and women still talked of the gorgeous car- 
riages and splendid liveries of the great Dame De Pean,’’ 
whom they had seen in their childhood, rolling in state 
along the broad avenue of St. Foye, the admiration, 
envy and evil example of her sex ! Many people shook 
their heads and whispered queer stories of her past life, in 
the days of the Intendant Bigot, but none knew the worst 
of her. The forgotten chamber of Beaumanoir kept its 
terrible secret till long after she had disappeared from the 
scene of h^r extravagant life. The delight of Angelique 
was in the eyes of men, and the business of her life was to 
retain their admiration down to the last years of an in- 
corrigible old age. 

The fate of La Corriveau, her confederate in her great 
wickedness, was peculiar and terrible. Secured at once by 
her own fears, as well as by a rich yearly allowance paid 
her by Angelique, La Corriveau discreetly bridled her 
tongue over the death of Caroline, but she could not bridle 
her own evil passions in her own household. 

One summer day of the year following the conquest of 
the colony, the Goodman Dodier was found dead in his 
house at St. Valier. Fanchon, who knew something and 
suspected more, spoke out ; an investigation into the cause 


« THE MILLS OF GOD GRIND SLOWLYT 677 

of death of the husband resulted in the discovery that he 
had been murdered by pouring melt£4. lead into his ear 
while he slept ! La Corriveau was/arreste^i^ as the perpe- 
trator of the atrocious deed. ^ ' 

A special court of justice wa^ convened in the great 
hall of the Convent of the Ursulihes, which, in the ruinous 
state of the city after the siege and bombardment, had 
been taken for the headquarters of General Murray. Mere 
Mignon and Mere Esther, who both survived the conquest, 
had effected a prudent arrangement with the English Gen- 
eral, and saved the Convent from all further encroachment 
by placing it under his special protection. 

La Corriveau was tried with all the fairness, if not with 
all the forms, of English law. She made a subtle and 
embarrassing defence, but was at last fairly convicted of 
the cruel murder of her husband. She was sentenced to 
be hung and gibbetted, in an iron cage, upon the hill of 
Levis, in sight of the whole city of Quebec. 

La Corriveau made frantic efforts during her imprison- 
ment to engage Angelique to intercede in her behalf ; but 
Angelique’s appeals were fruitless before the stern admin- 
istrators of English law. Moreover, Angelique, to be true 
to herself, was false to her wicked confederate. She cared 
not to intercede too much, or enough to ensure success! 
In her heart she wished La Corriveau well out of the way, 
that all memory of the tragedy of Beaumanoir might be 
swept from the earth, except what of it remained hid in 
in her own bosom. She juggled with the appeals of La 
Corriveau, keeping her in hopes of pardon until the fatal 
hour came, when it was too late for La Corriveau to harm 
her by a confession of the murder of Caroline. 

The hill of Levis, where La Corriveau was gibbetted, 
was long remembered in the traditions of the colony. It 
was regarded with superstitious awe by the habitans. The 
ghost of Le Corriveau long haunted — and, in the belief of 
many, still haunts the scene of her execution. Startling 
tales, raising the hair with terror, were told of her round 
the firesides in winter, when the snow-drifts cover the 
fences ; and the north wind howls down the chimney and 
rattles the casement of the cottages of the habita^is^ how, 
all night long, in the darkness, she ran after belated travel- 
lers, dragging her cage at her heels, and defying all the 
exorcisms of the Church to lay her evil spirit ! 


678 


THE CHIEN D'OR. 


Singularly enough, after the ancient gibbet had rotted 
down and three ^efier^tions of men had passed over the 
accursed spot where h'er bones and her cage had been, 
buried together out of r|iuman sight, a habitant of Levis, 
digging in the earth, discovered the horrid cage, rusted 
and decayed with its long interment. It was taken up and 
exhibited in the city as a curiosity, though few remembered 
its story. Finally it was bought at a great price by a cob 
lector of relics — the ghastlier the better — and deposited in 
the Public Museum at Boston, in New England, where it 
remains dissociated from the terrible memories which were 
connected with it. A young lady of Quebec, acquainted 
with the legends of her country, and whose quick eyes 
nothing escapes, discovered not long ago the horrible thing, 
covered with the dust and oblivion of time — the last relic 
that remains of the memory of La Corriveau. 

The house in St. Valier, the scene of her atrocious 
crime, was burned to the ground on the night she was gib- 
betted, by the indignant habitans^ to whom it had ever been 
an object of supreme terror. With it were consumed the relics 
of the laboratory of Antonio Exili, and the deadly secret of 
the Aqua Ibfana^ a secret which it is hoped modern chemis- 
try will not re-discover, but let remain, for ever, among the 
lost arts of an ancient and evil world ! 

Our tale is now done. It ends in all sadness, as most 
true tales of this world do! There is in it neither poetic 
nor human justice. Fain would we have had it otherwise, 
for the heart longs for happiness as the eye for light ! 
But truth is stronger as well as stranger than fiction, and 
while the tablet of the Chien Or overlooks the Rue 
Buade ; while the lamp of Repentigny burns in the ancient 
chapel of the Ursulines ; while the ruins of Beaumanoir 
cover the dust of Caroline de St. Castin ; and Amelie 
sleeps her long sleep by the side of Heloise de Lotbinihre, 
this writer has neither courage nor power to deviate from 
the received traditions in relating the story of the Golden 
Dog. 


END. 


TO 

MISS RYE, 

IN ADMIRATION OP HER INTELLIGENT AND WOMANLY PERSEVERANCE 

IN THE GOOD WORK TO WHICH SHE DEVOTES HER LIFE — THE RESCUE 

FROM POVERTY AND VICE OP DESTITUTE CHILDREN — THIS BOOK IS 

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY . THE AUTHOR. 

Niagara, Ontario, 

January, 1877. 


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